The Quest for Soria Moria
by holdyourapplause
Summary: Emma & Killian are blissfully awaiting the birth of their child. All is well, until one day everyone in Storybrooke vanishes without a trace. The small family sets off on a quest that crosses all the realms. They will ultimately find powerful friends and allies on their journey as they fight against the greatest evil the realms have ever faced. Rated M for danger & smokin' hotness.
1. Vanished

The sails snapped sharply in the afternoon breeze, draping the deck of the Jolly Roger in dappled shadows. Emma's thoughts drifted lazily as she turned the ship's wheel further to port, tacking into the shifting wind as Killian had taught her. Her growing belly brushed the wheel lightly. If she got much bigger she wouldn't be able to reach the wheel at all. A sudden kick brought her out of her reverie. Smiling, she put her hand to her abdomen where her daughter was apparently waking up from a nap.

She felt his approach even before he pressed his warm body against her back. Strong arms wrapped around her, the tip of his hook tickling her skin through the thick cabling of her sweater.

"Good form, Swan," he murmured against her ear.

"I think I'm finally getting the hang of this sailing thing. Piece of cake."

He laughed, the joyful sound of it lifting her soul as it always did. Just when she thought she couldn't get any happier, Killian would say or do something that would make her heart feel like it was filling with helium. Sometimes she thought she might just float away, she felt so light. It was as if they had spent the last seven months making up for the first thirty years of her life spent alone, and his own centuries of loneliness. It had been sheer bliss, and Emma still couldn't quite believe it at times.

"Indeed you are, love. As with so many things, you make it appear easily done," he said, nuzzling her neck,"and might I add, manage to look stunningly beautiful doing it."

"Mmmmmm," she replied, turning her head for a kiss. Her blond tresses tumbled about them in the salty air. Their sunglasses bumped one another as Killian deepened the kiss. They pulled apart laughing.

"Bloody ridiculous things, these 'sun glasses'," muttered Killian, slipping his off and squinting in the bright autumn sunshine.

"You look good in them, Hook. Really."

He raised an eyebrow, looking unconvinced, but gamely slid the aviators back on. Emma had finally gotten him to wear Storybrooke clothing, though he still grumbled that he didn't feel like a captain aboard his own ship when he was wearing these 'horrid dungarees'. He was currently sporting tight dark jeans and a heavy cable knit sweater with a thick collar. And his usual scuffed boots, of course. She loved his pirate look, but damn, he could rock this modern one like no man she'd ever seen. Another jolt to her belly from its tiny occupant startled her, her hand going to her stomach automatically. Killian drew a worried breath, but she calmed him immediately by taking his hand and placing it over the spot where a miniature foot was making its presence known.

"Restless today, is she?" he murmured, holding her more tightly against him and rubbing his hand lightly over her protruding belly.

"Yeah, she let me sleep through the night though, so no complaints."

"Perhaps she knew her mother needed some rest," he whispered, a wicked tone in his voice, "after yesterday's...activities."

"Activities? That's not how I'd describe it," she replied with a smile.

"Hmmm, you have a better term?"

"Incredible, mind-blowing sex in every position we can still manage? I'd just call it the perfect way to spend an evening."

"Aye, love. I'd call it the same."

Emma sighed contentedly and let Killian take control of the wheel from her. She rested her hands on the spokes and admired the view, resting her weight against her husband's warm, lean body. The coast of Maine was nothing short of spectacular this time of year. All of the fall foliage along the rugged coastline was bursting in reds and golds and pinks. The baby would arrive just before Christmas. Emma couldn't believe they were only a few weeks away. She also couldn't believe that Killian - Captain Hook! - was now contentedly settled with her in a cozy white cottage perched above the harbor. It was too domestic to be believed. The day she'd woken up and looked out the window to see him happily painting their new white picket fence, she'd simply laughed with the absurdity of it all.

Just before they left on this weekend getaway, he'd surprised her with a beautiful hand-made crib that Gepetto and Pinocchio had labored over for months. It was a gorgeous work of art. Sculpted from oiled teak, it even had ingenious pins built into the rockers to secure it to the deck, so they could take it with them aboard the Jolly Roger when they wished. It was designed to look like a miniature version of the Jolly Roger, which even David, not known for his love of sailing, had to admit was just freaking adorable. The base of it was covered with fine carvings of waves and sea creatures. There was also a figurehead at the prow of the ship. Emma had smiled to see that it was a perfect little sculpture of Yemaja, her hair streaming in the wind, perfect breasts jutting proudly toward the horizon.

Killian had actually blushed when she'd commented on how well he'd conveyed the goddess's proportions to Gepetto. She could hardly blame him though. Yemaja's measurements were basically burned into her own brain, after the eyeful they got of her with Neptune.

"Lisette?"

"Huh? Oh. Um, no," replied Emma, frowning. "Sounds like a french prostitute."

Killian laughed. They were still struggling to come up with a name they could agree on for their daughter. Everyone in the family kept offering ideas but nothing had felt right yet.

"Take the helm, stubborn woman. I'm going to go haul in some sail. We'll be back at Storybrooke's port within the hour."

"I'll call ahead and let them know. We should have cell service this close."

Emma tied the helm at their current course before she pulled out her phone and dialed David. It went straight to voicemail, which was odd for the middle of the day. He always kept his phone on. Maybe his battery died?

She left a message letting them know they'd be back soon and inviting them to dinner at Granny's. Next she tried Henry. He'd finally gotten his own cell after months of begging. The winning argument was when he guilted Emma about the amount of time she would be spending with the new baby and not with him. She'd rolled her eyes, but had to admit it was an effective argument. He'd gotten the phone. But Henry's number went right to voicemail as well. Emma was frowning when Killian rejoined her on the upper deck.

"What is it, love?"

"No one's picking up. Everything's going straight to voicemail."

"Dead...batteries?" he asked. She normally found his enunciation of these modern words like 'batteries' to be endearingly hysterical. But right now, she was fighting a rising tide of anxiety. Her instincts were telling her something was wrong.

She tried Snow's phone next. "This is Mary Margaret, please leave me a message and I'll get back to you-"

Then Regina. Nothing. Granny's Diner! That was a landline. She tried it. The phone just kept ringing. After a dozen rings, she ended the call. She tried Gold's shop, knowing in her gut that it was unlikely she would get an answer there either, and was unsurprised when the answering machine with Belle and Rumple's message picked up. She felt suddenly chilled and shivered in the crisp air. Trying not to panic, she put her phone in her pocket and took a deep breath.

Killian folded her in his arms and rubbed her back soothingly. "I'm sure it's nothing, Emma."

"Something's wrong, Killian. Something's happened in Storybrooke."


	2. Curio

There was no one in Storybrooke.

Cars sat empty, stores and streets vacant. The dry leaves on the trees rustled in the fragrant autumn air.

Emma was standing in the middle of Main Street, hands splayed protectively across her belly. Her red leather coat hung open. Long gone were the days when she could zip it.

She turned around yet again, still hoping that she would hear Henry's voice call out, telling her it was all a practical joke as everyone came out from wherever they were hiding. But there was nothing, just the sound of Killian's footsteps as he approached her in the late afternoon twilight.

"Anything?" she asked softly. Her voice carried unnaturally in the stillness.

"Not a soul to be found, love," he said, shaking his head. She bowed her head. Of course. She'd been too happy. Something had to come along and screw everything up. He seemed to know what she was thinking and opened his arms wordlessly. She stepped into them, taking a deep breath of his comforting scent.

A sudden jolt of pain lanced through her belly. _Oh god, not now_, she thought as she doubled over.

"Emma!"

She looked up at Killian, feeling stricken with panic. "The baby. I think it's time."

"Bloody hell!" He looked as freaked out as she was. No doctors, no hospital, no family, no friends. They were on their own.

"Yep."

* * *

"You can do it, Savior. One more push, love. I can see her head," said Killian.

Emma's water had broken before they had even made it home. The contractions had come fast and hard. This kid clearly wanted out. Another contraction knifed through her. Emma had forgotten how painful this childbirth thing was. She'd been counting on that epidural. She gritted her teeth and pushed again with all her might.

"She's got dark hair, Emma. That's it, keep going!"

One final bearing down and there was a sudden release as her daughter came into the world. Emma propped herself up wearily. Killian wrapped the crying baby in a blanket and handed her to Emma, who took a startled breath. Big sapphire eyes gazed up at her, round and trusting. A cap of silky dark hair crowned her tiny head. Her beautiful eyes, rimmed with long, dark lashes, slid closed as she nestled into sleep against Emma's breast, her delicate rosebud mouth slightly open. She was perfect. More than perfect, she was the most stunning thing Emma had ever seen.

When she'd given up Henry, she hadn't been able to bear holding him. She had been certain it would break her. Now, holding this precious little girl against her chest, she knew it would have. The welling emotion suddenly had her crying tears of pure joy and relief. Killian curled himself around them in the bed. He was watching the baby with an expression of baffled wonder. A tear slid down his cheek as his daughter wrapped a tiny hand around his finger. They gazed at each other a moment, in shock and happiness, and shared a tender kiss over their sleeping daughter's head.

Now, thought Emma, at least there were three residents of Storybrooke.

* * *

Three weeks after their daughter was born, and they still hadn't come up with a name for her. Emma was in love with this little girl, and nothing they tried seemed to come close to matching her. Killian had given up suggesting names and was content to call her "Moppet" for the time being. He'd taken to carrying her about the cottage, humming softly to her. Emma had had a feeling he would be a great father, but to see him with their daughter like this...she just melted at seeing him so besotted with her.

"Let's go into town, love. It'll do you good to get some fresh air."

"All right, all right. Keep your knickers on," teased Emma. She'd been happily lying around with her little one as much as possible, enjoying every moment. She knew it was early, but she thought their daughter already had a playful personality. She had a feeling she would be a charming handful when she was older, just like a certain pirate she knew.

They dressed and headed down to Main Street. Emma was still creeped out by the emptiness. The mysterious loss of Henry and Snow and David and little Neal had been weighing on her, tinging the joy of Moppet's birth with anxiety and sadness. They still had no idea where everyone went. How were they going to figure out what happened?

"Want to try Gold's shop? Maybe there's something there that can help us?" she suggested. They had already tried Regina's place, with no luck.

The front door to the shop was unlocked. The bell chimed cheerfully when they entered, making Emma jump. The shop was empty, as expected. A thin film of dust had begun to gather on all the eclectic objects.

Emma carried their little girl in her arms as they perused the shelves and cases. Nothing stuck out to her as being particularly interesting. They headed into the back, where they knew Rumple kept the more valuable, and dangerous, items.

"See anything you think could help us, love?"

"I don't have a clue what any of this stuff is. My knowledge of magic isn't much better than yours, Killian."

Emma paused by a tall apothecary case. Its glass shelves contained small baubles of varying descriptions. She held Moppet up a bit to look in. "What do you think, little one? Anything interesting in here?"

Killian smiled, coming over to them. "She's a brilliant girl, like her mother, but surely it's a bit early to rely on her to solve our conundrum?"

Emma was about to laugh when the baby suddenly swung her chubby arm up toward the case, and not in a way that appeared accidental.

Killian shared a look with Emma.

"Is it just me, love, or is our daughter pointing at that small wooden box there?"

"Um...yeah. She's staring at it too, I think. Okay, that's weird. We're getting out of here."

"Post haste," agreed Killian. They made for the door but stopped when the baby began wailing. Emma turned back to the case, and the baby quieted.

They tried again to make for the door with the same results.

Reluctantly, they turned and stood again in front of the cabinet. The baby once more pointed her teensy fingers at the small wooden box.

Killian shrugged, and carefully removed it from its resting place, leaving a square of dust-free space on the glass shelf. It was about the size of a child's puzzle block. He balanced it on the palm of his hand as he held it up to inspection in the light. It was an oiled wooden cube, with swirled etchings of some kind on each side face.

"What is it?" asked Emma warily.

"Don't know. It doesn't appear to open. There are a few symbols carved on the sides. One looks like a crescent moon and this one like the sun, perhaps."

Hesitantly, he held it out toward the baby. Moppet gurgled with delight and reached toward it. Killian pulled it away instantly, to Emma's relief. The infant howled and cried. Killian slowly extended the cube back toward her, calming her immediately.

"Killian-" warned Emma. Suddenly the cube leapt off Killian's palm and hovered, spinning, in midair inches from Moppet's face. Emma was frozen in shock. The baby reached up her chubby little hands before they could make a move and grasped the block. Nothing whatsoever happened. Had Moppet done that herself? Maybe Yemaja had been right about her being powerful.

Emma was holding her breath. Killian reached over slowly, intending to take the block, when suddenly the top of it unfolded as though it were made of origami paper. The box began to deconstruct itself, flattening and expanding as they watched in amazement. When the movement finally ceased, the box was gone, leaving in its stead a thin sheaf of wood with carved patterns on its face. Emma plucked it from her daughter's tiny grasp and handed it quickly to Killian.

"What the hell is that thing?"

Killian held it up to the light, looking puzzled.

"It appears to be a map. In fact, I recognize this portion of it here," he said, pointing to a small area in the right hand corner. "The Enchanted Forest."

They shared a loaded glance.

"It's a huge map. What are the other places?"

"I thought I'd sailed every corner of the realm, and then some," he said, sounding surprised. "But according to this, the realm extends much further than anyone ever guessed. Only a third of this map's area is known to me, or anyone else as far as I'm aware."

"What does that say there, on the upper right hand corner?"

"It's a name, I believe. Whether of a person or place is unclear. It's etched in the center of a compass rose, but instead of reading east or west, it has symbols of the sun and the moon."

"What's the name?"

Killian lowered the map and looked at their tiny daughter, who was staring fixedly at it.

"Moriah."

The baby gurgled and her whole body squirmed with apparent delight.

"Moriah," whispered Emma. It sounded...oddly perfect.

"Emma..."

"Yeah?"

"I think our daughter just found her own name."


	3. Portal

The second anniversary of their return to an empty Storybrooke had descended upon them like a lead weight. Killian was sure that if it hadn't been for Moriah, they would've both gone completely mad during the last two years. Especially after they'd sailed down the coast during that first six months. They'd held out hope that maybe it was just Storybrooke that had been deserted, but when they'd seen the once bustling metropolis of New York was also devoid of human life...suffice it to say, it had been a bad time for them both. It had been just the three of them in Storybrooke since the day Moriah was born.

He'd spent the better part of the afternoon aboard the Jolly Roger. They'd agreed to keep her stocked and fit to sail at all times, in case they finally came across a way to jump between realms. That was an ongoing struggle for Emma. She'd become certain that her family was in the Enchanted Forest, but hadn't been able to contact them by mirror, much less find a way to get them there. He knew the frustration ate at her daily. No matter how much she loved him and Moriah, her son was still out there somewhere. Not to mention her parents and her little brother. Neal would be nearly three years old now.

He made his way to the cheerful little cottage perched above the harbor, knowing it would likely not be all that cheerful today. Entering cautiously, he saw that the bedroom door was closed. Moriah was asleep in her nursery, sprawled out in her crib. He knew he was biased, but he'd never seen a more beautiful child. Long dark hair spilled around her, framing a pale heart-shaped face. Her luminous blue eyes were closed, long lashes brushing her cheeks. He bent to kiss her forehead, reveling in her sweet baby smell. He backed away carefully, trying not to wake her. She was a handful under good circumstances. But wake her from a nap...Emma would skin him alive.

Sighing, he opened the bedroom door. Emma was lying curled up in the fetal position. He stripped and crawled into bed with her, hoping to offer her some comfort. Wordlessly, she turned to face him. He was surprised when she kissed him. He found himself responding as he always did. She was simply intoxicating. The kiss deepened and he was surprised to find her completely naked beneath the sheets. The sexy minx had this planned. She ran her fingers over his hardening length and he groaned aloud.

"Shhhhhh," she whispered, as she kissed her way down his neck and chest. He dug his hook into the mattress when she took him in her mouth. She slid her tongue slowly over his tip in that maddening way she was so expert at. He wouldn't be able to keep quiet if she did that much longer. Just when he couldn't take it anymore, she stopped and crawled up to kiss him, lowering herself onto him as she did so. He was enveloped in her tight slickness. Sitting up, she tilted her head back and let herself ride him with abandon. He lay back and let her take what she needed. He reached up with his good hand and rubbed tight little circles around her sensitive nub, making her moan.

"Shhhhh," he whispered back, teasing. She rolled her eyes at him. He sucked in a breath when she began teasing her own nipples into stiff peaks. He was getting close. She increased the rhythm, gyrating against him with urgency. He felt her tighten around him, silently flying apart with a stifled moan. Her climax pulled him along with her, and he shuddered inside of her until he was spent. She lay limply on his chest, breathing slowly returning to normal as he stroked the smooth skin of her back.

"Mmmmmm...I needed that," she murmured.

"Happy to oblige, love," he replied, kissing the top of her tousled head.

Their drowsy calm was shattered when a bright light suddenly blasted through the living room, accompanied by a familiar roaring gust of wind. They both scrambled from bed in a panic. A large portal had opened up where the kitchen used to be. The air was being sucked out of the room by the violence of the swirling passage. His heart stopped when he saw his daughter tottering on her little unsteady legs straight for it.

"No!" they both shouted. Killian reached her first, scooping her up into his arms. The portal snapped out of existence as quickly as it had arrived. A few papers fluttered around the living room. He folded Emma into a tight hug with Moriah. They were both breathing hard. Moriah looked startled by their reaction and her lower lip trembled on the verge of tears. He could see a meltdown coming. She was clutching the small wooden box that contained the enchanted map.

Emma took it from her, ignoring her wail of protest. "How on earth did you get this? I locked it in the safe!"

"Bloody hell, Emma! Did she just open a portal to another realm?!"

Emma's mouth fell open. "She did, didn't she?"

"Emma...you know what this means?"

A slow smile began to lift the corners of her mouth until she was grinning in happy astonishment.

"Yeah. We're setting sail, Hook."

* * *

Since the Jolly Roger was already sea-worthy, it took them just a day to provision her and make ready to sail. They'd both been tense as live wires since Moriah had opened the portal. The little girl had forgotten all about it, of course. Killian smiled to see her playing with her dolls where Emma had spread a blanket on the deck, unaware that they were about to embark on a potentially perilous journey. His heart constricted thinking of the danger they might be putting this perfect little soul into. But Emma was right. They couldn't live like this any longer, without knowing what happened to everyone. They had to find their family. Moriah needed more than just the two of them in her life.

The little girl held up her favorite doll to him as he approached. He picked her up and kissed her cheek. Moriah frowned and held the doll to him more insistently. "Daddy kiss," she ordered in her tiny voice. He grinned and planted a loud kiss on the doll's cheek. Moriah giggled uproariously. He cradled her to him tightly before setting her back down again to play, feeling that now-familiar mix of joy and terror that he'd come to learn was part of fatherhood.

Emma popped up from belowdecks where she'd been stowing items in preparation for the journey. She'd insisted on bringing a handful of items from Gold's shop, which made him uneasy to say the least. She'd lugged aboard a wooden box containing tiny vials of assorted liquids (he didn't even want to know what they contained), a small glass bottle with a symbol of a ship burnt into the cork stopper, a black stone sphere the size of a plum, and a few other odds and ends. He didn't like having them aboard. He and Rumplestiltskin may have come to uneasy terms, but the man was nonetheless not to be trusted, especially when it came to magic. But Emma had insisted that she had a feeling they would need them, so aboard they went. He had come to trust the Swan instinct when it came to these things, so he'd shrugged and decided not to argue. Perhaps they would come in handy to trade, if nothing else. He'd donned his pirate garb that morning, which felt bloody damned good, and set about making the Jolly Roger ready for a long voyage with a toddler aboard. It would not be easy to raise a child on a pirate ship.

"I think we're ready."

"Aye. As ready as we'll ever be, I suppose."

She had heard the note of apprehension in his voice and wound her arms around his neck with a playful smile.

"Scared, Captain Hook?"

"Now that we have this little one, I find myself frightened more often than I'd like to admit," he said, nodding to where their daughter was babbling charmingly to her toys in a singsong voice.

"I know. But we need to do this, right? We can't raise her in a world with just three people in it, Killian."

"Inarguably correct, as always, Swan. Let's get underway, shall we?"

"You put the sign up before we left, didn't you?"

"Aye, it's done."

They had painted a wooden sign and secured it to the door of Granny's Diner. It read "Family + Friends - have been alone here 2 years. Setting off for the Enchanted Forest. Hope you are there. We love you. Letters inside + photos. Emma, Killian and Moriah Jones"

Emma kissed him gently. "Thanks. Shall we?"

He nodded and directed her to the helm. Emma scooped up Moriah and climbed to the upper deck. Killian unfurled the main sail before joining them. They caught the brisk morning breeze easily and tacked to a heading out of the harbor. As they'd agreed, they secured themselves to the deck with harnesses fashioned from lengths of rope. After more than a few tumultuous trips through portals, they'd finally learned to be cautious. Emma took a deep breath before pulling the map box from her pocket. Moriah clapped her hands together in delight when she saw it. Emma handed it over to the little girl, who took it with a look of intense concentration on her face.

A rush of roaring wind and spinning blue light announced the arrival of the portal swirling in the air ahead of the ship. Moriah laughed when it appeared, unaware of the grim expressions on her parents' faces. The prow of the ship had pierced the opening of the portal. They were about to go through. Killian wrapped an arm around his little family and braced himself. The little girl was babbling happily, though it was hard to make out anything above the whirl of wind. One word repeated became audible suddenly.

"Dragon dragon dragon!"

They looked at each other in alarm. Emma's eyes were saucers. She'd encountered a dragon before, and it had not been a pleasant experience in her telling.

"Did she say 'dragon'?" yelled Killian. Emma didn't have time to reply, as the ship sailed through the portal in a flash of blinding light.


	4. Dragonrider

_Writer's note: things are about to get a bit strange, folks. There are going to be some interesting, non-Disney and Disney crossovers happening as the journey progresses. Stick with me, and I promise this will be a fun ride :)_

Killian was bracing for a blow that never came. He opened one eye, cautiously, and was rewarded with a view of clear blue sky. He relaxed slightly and looked around. There was no sign of the portal that brought them here, wherever here was. Emma beside him was also looking around curiously. Moriah was still babbling happily in her arms as though traversing a magical portal was a fun way to spend an afternoon.

The Maine shoreline had vanished, and Storybrooke along with it. They were sailing in a mild breeze on calm seas in a place he had never seen before. There was a rugged series of islands off to starboard. He pointed them out to Emma, who raised an eyebrow. Pulling out his spyglass, he trained it on the dramatic land formations. There appeared to be human settlements built atop and around them, particularly the largest. A series of wooden frame dwellings and terraced farming areas wound around the rocky prominences. He saw no signs of people, however.

"It's definitely inhabited, or at least was," he said. "There's a large dock at the base of the largest island, with a few ships in port. I don't recognize their make, though. Not like any ships I've seen before."

"So you've never sailed here?"

"No. It's completely unfamiliar. It must be in one of the areas of the map far from the Enchanted Forest."

Emma's face fell. He knew she'd been hoping to pop out of the portal within sight of the land where she thought her family might be.

He squeezed her arm. "Chin up, Swan. Perhaps there are people here who can tell us where we are and how far the Enchanted Forest may be."

She squared her shoulders.

"You're right, let's go."

He looked at her with a swell of pride. That was his Swan. Tough as nails and ready for anything.

They made for the large island. As they approached, Hook thought he saw a shadow cross the deck of the ship, but looking up he saw nothing. Must have been a bird, he thought. He endeavored to put all thoughts of dragons firmly out of his mind. There was no way Moriah could have known what lay beyond the portal. She just had an active imagination for a two year old, simple as that. Nonetheless, he pulled out his spyglass and surveyed the skies. Nothing to be seen for miles.

They slid gracefully into port, anchoring at one of the long wooden docks. This was a seafaring folk, or had been at least. No sign of life stirred in the settlement. The ships tethered there were of an odd make. Long and low to the waterline, with ports for dozens of oars all along both sides. They appeared to be sailed primarily by manpower. How odd.

Killian swung down to secure the ship. Emma had put Moriah into a harness on her back and climbed down a rope ladder to join him. The only sounds were the waves lapping against the rocky shoreline and the creaking of the docks.

He saw her put a hand reflexively to her belt. She had stopped carrying a weapon two years ago, when Moriah came along. Her fingers clenched as she remembered.

"You do have magic, love," he reminded her.

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a bit rusty, Killian. A gun would make me feel a bit better, at least. We're about to walk into a possibly bad situation here." But she made no move to go belowdecks to retrieve her pistol from its locked trunk.

He nodded at her decision before turning toward the steep stone steps leading up to what must be the town proper. They began to climb, alternating carrying Moriah, who suddenly seemed to weigh fifty stone. Half an hour later, panting with exertion, they emerged from between two rock walls to a flat area nestled among several enormous rocky spires. It appeared to be something like a town square, formed by a grassy meadow ringed with wooden buildings. A few sheep grazed placidly, not even acknowledging their presence.

"There's no one here, Killian."

"Aye, it appears so. Perhaps whatever befell Storybroo-"

He was interrupted by the beat of massive wings overhead, and a dark shadow crossing over the grassy field. It was most definitely NOT a bird. Killian cursed.

"Find cover, Emma!"

"Dragon dragon dragon!" shouted Moriah, laughing.

"Hello!" called a voice. "Hi there!"

Was the dragon...speaking? Killian was scanning the sky, swiveling his head back and forth. Emma had darted under the scant protection of the nearest wooden porch.

Suddenly a glossy black shape the size of Emma's Bug dropped from the sky with a tremendous woosh, landing elegantly in front of Killian with smooth, powerful strokes of its wings. He stumbled in surprise and fell onto his backside, sword raised. It was indeed a dragon, far smaller than he had heard them to be. Its diamond-shaped head held a pair of enormous green eyes, with a vertical black iris like a cat's. Perfectly black, smooth scales glistened in the sunlight, briefly reminding him of the Koulév Nwa.

"It's all right, he won't hurt you!" yelled the voice.

It had taken Killian a moment to realize that the dragon wasn't the one speaking, but a young man who had climbed down from its back. He'd apparently been riding the beast, as though it were a horse! The dragon was fitted with an intricate leather harness of some sort. It swished its long black tail, and Killian noted that it had a sort of leather and metal contraption secured to the end of it.

Killian kept his cutlass raised as he scrambled to his feet. The young man was handsome and fit, around twenty or so years of age, Killian would guess. He noted that one of his legs had been amputated below the knee, and replaced with a metal and leather contrivance. Despite his youth, there was a measure of command and confidence in his manner. He had a mop of untidy dark brown hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose. Something about him implied trustworthiness, but Killian wasn't about to relax his guard with a two ton (likely fire-breathing) animal standing behind him. The boy approached Killian slowly, with hands raised.

"There's no need for the sword, I promise," he said with a wide smile. "He's harmless."

"I'll be the judge of that, mate," replied Killian, doubtfully.

The boy surprised him by slowly sinking to his knees and bowing his head for a moment. When he looked up, Killian lowered his sword without even thinking about it. There were tears shining in the kid's wide green eyes.

"You okay, kid?" asked Emma. She had emerged from the porch with Moriah. Killian didn't take his eyes off the dragon. It was sitting patiently at attention, watching them closely. There was a protectiveness in its stance that Killian recognized. He made no move toward the boy, knowing that would likely have disastrous consequences. He decided to sheath his cutlass, to avoid provoking it.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's just...you're the first people I've spoken to in two years."

* * *

"Here, have some more cocoa," said Emma, leaning over to pour the boy another cup. They were gathered around a fire where they had camped out in the meadow. Killian could tell that Emma had developed a soft spot for the kid as soon as she saw him. He did somewhat resemble a certain teenager they knew.

The boy smiled in thanks as he took it from her. He'd gulped down two cups already. Chocolate was apparently not known around these parts. The dragon was curled up behind him, apparently dozing. He settled back against its silky hide and continued his story.

"I had been out patrolling all morning. Toothless here gets restless if we don't manage several hours of flying every day. I guess I do too."

He stroked the beast's hide affectionately. He continued, "When we got back around lunchtime, I noticed at first how quiet it was. Normally there's a lot of shouting and cursing and total chaos around here during the day. The people of Berk are not known for being the quiet type."

He shook his head with a sad smile, looking about the empty village with a distant look in his eye.

"And they were all just...gone?" prodded Emma gently.

"Yeah, every last one of them. One day this was a thriving village, full of friends and family, humans and dragons, and the next it was just me and Toothless here, and a couple of sheep."

"The same thing happened to us, mate," added Killian, who pulled out his flask of rum and took a sip. The familiar burn of the liquor was like greeting an old friend. He settled in closer to the fire with a sigh.

"Really? Your people are gone too?"

"Aye, two years ago almost to the day. We journeyed to this realm seeking the Enchanted Forest, which is where we hope our people ended up."

"Enchanted Forest...I've never heard of it. Is it far?"

"Not sure, Haddock. We were hoping you could tell us." He refused to call the kid by his given name, 'Hiccup'. He shook his head. It was just too ridiculous. What kind of people named their kids so strangely and sailed ships propelled by oar? Not to mention this dragon-riding business.

"I've visited all the islands nearby and flown as far out to sea as Toothless can go. I've seen empty villages in a few places, but that's about it. Why do you think they're in this Enchanted Forest place?"

"Long story, but Emma was actually born there. Her family has quite a history with it. They tend to end up back there with regularity, usually at the wrong end of magic spells and curses."

"Magic? Ha...riiiight," he chuckled, before realizing from their expressions that they weren't joking.

"Says the guy riding a dragon?" teased Emma softly. She turned up a palm and conjured a tiny ball of fire, letting it hover just a moment before winking it out of existence. Haddock dropped his cocoa mug in surprise, but caught it with surprising dexterity before it hit the ground, not spilling a drop.

"You're...a sorceress?" he whispered. The dragon behind him had tensed noticeably at his tone of voice.

Emma laughed. "Not exactly. I'm the result of True Love, which is a powerful thing in the Enchanted Forest. My magic is a result of that. This little troublemaker, however," she said with a smile, pulling Moriah up onto her lap, "is a slightly different story."

Haddock smiled at the toddler squirming in her mother's arms. "Adorable little lass. You're not telling me she's got magic too?"

"Aye, that she does. In fact, she's the one that brought us through the portal to this realm today," sighed Killian, running a hand tiredly through his hair. "Bugger if we know how she did it though."

The boy's eyes went wide at that. Moriah squirmed out of Emma's lap and toddled over to him, suddenly shy.

"Hello, little girl. I'm Hiccup," he said, holding out a hand to her with faux solemnity.

She giggled and took it, pointing to herself with the other tiny hand. "Mo-wy-a" she laughed.

"Mowiah? What a pretty name."

"It's Moriah Margaret Jones," said Emma, smiling.

"Oh, Moriah Jones? I think I'll call you MoJo then, for short. What do you think of that, MoJo?" he said, grinning at her.

She stamped her feet happily and threw her chubby little arms around his neck. After knowing only her parents for her short life, his daughter had just made her first friend. He felt a bit choked up and sought out Emma's gaze. She was also on the verge of tears. He cleared his throat.

"Perhaps we'd best get some rest. We can figure out a plan in the morning."

Haddock gently disengaged himself from Moriah as he stood.

"You're welcome to sleep in that house there, it's mine. I usually sleep out here with Toothless under the stars when the weather's good."

Killian eyed the house he pointed to. He wasn't sure, but it looked like it was bigger and better appointed than the rest. The position in the village made it seem important, like the leader of its people lived there. He was about to ask Haddock about it when he realized that Moriah had toddled over to the sleeping dragon's head. Before he could react, she leaned down, hands planted on her tiny knees, and placed a gentle kiss on its great forehead. Its huge green eyes opened as she smiled at it. She gently patted its nose. "Nite nite, toofy".

She ran back to her mother with her arms raised to be picked up. The dragon had raised its head and, Killian could not believe it, was actually _smiling_, pink tongue hanging out of its mouth. Unbelievable. Haddock reached over and rubbed its sinuous neck. It leaned into his scratching with obvious pleasure. "Good boy, Toothless," Hook heard him murmur.

"I guess 'MoJo' made _two_ friends today," said Emma as they made their way to the little wooden house.

* * *

"Moriah, can you make the map for daddy? Map?" Killian was cooing to her as she messily ate her oatmeal. Negotiating with a toddler was never easy. He was holding the map box out to her hesitantly, praying silently that she wouldn't end up making a portal by accident. He made a gesture with his hands like the box was opening up, trying to convey what they needed her to do. Moriah was licking the oatmeal off her petite fingers, apparently finding her father's charades endlessly amusing. "Can you open the box, love? Be a good girl and let Daddy see the map."

Moriah raised one messy finger and touched it delicately to the top of the box. It unfolded itself neatly until it lay flat in his hand.

"Whoah," breathed Haddock. Killian wiped the oatmeal off what was now a thin wooden map and laid it out on the table where they were eating their breakfast.

He pointed to the lower right hand corner, where the familiar shape of the coastline he knew hugged the Enchanted Forest.

"This is our destination. Do you have any notion of where on the map we might be right now, mate?"

Haddock placed his callused hands to either side of the map and leaned over it in concentration, a lock of brown hair falling in his eyes.

"Here, this is where we are," he said confidently, pointing to the upper left hand corner of the map.

Emma groaned when she saw where he was pointing. "Seriously? Are you sure?"

"Yep. I'm very familiar with what this area looks like from above. These islands here are ours, the biggest one being the one we're on at the moment. I've already checked all of these areas for people, and found nothing," he said, pointing out several of the closest islands and the distant coastline at the top edge of the map. The sea stretched in all directions around them, for quite a distance. It would be a voyage of several weeks by sea just to reach the next island that Haddock hadn't gotten to yet, and even further to the larger section of land visible at the lower portion of the map. The continent containing the Enchanted Forest was likely several months's journey away, assuming smooth sailing.

"Maybe we should see if Moriah can get us closer by portal?"

"She doesn't understand maps or distances, love. She seems to have chosen this place by knowing, somehow, there was a dragon here. Who knows where we'd end up if we tried it? Maybe further away, or even back in Storybrooke."

She sighed in resignation. "You're right. How long do you think it will take us to get there if we sail?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. I personally know the waters of but a quarter of the seas represented here. If it were all of an easy piece, I would say months at least."

Emma closed her eyes and put her head in her hands. He walked over to her and rubbed her shoulders.

"We'll get there, love. I promise you."

"So when do we set sail?" piped up Haddock.

They looked at him in surprise.

"Do you want to join us, mate?"

"Um, yes. Sorry, I didn't mean to invite myself along. It's just...I'd started to give up, ya know? After years of not having any people to talk to...I don't want to stay here, by myself, hoping things will change. At least if I go with you, I'll be trying to do something. Maybe I'll figure out what happened to everyone. It's torture, not knowing," he added softly, looking down at his hands.

Killian and Emma exchanged a wordless look.

"Of course, mate. You and your...Toothless. You'd be welcome aboard the Jolly Roger, assuming your companion doesn't mind a lengthy sea voyage," he said, adding firmly "and can feed itself - we don't have stores enough for a dragon-sized appetite."

The lad perked up at once. "Toothless can hunt his own food, no problem. We'll bring our own fresh water, if you have room for it."

"All right, lad. Welcome aboard, then."

Moriah pounded the table happily, splattering all of them with oatmeal.


	5. Ice Queen

"Happy birthday dear Moriah, happy birthday to you," they sang, clapping and cheering as the little girl blew out the candles. It wasn't much of a cake, thought Emma, but Moriah didn't seem to mind. She was grinning from ear to ear. Really, she was doing the best out of all of them these days.

Killian plucked the four candles from the stack of dry, floury pancakes drizzled in honey and began cutting portions for each of them. She chuckled when she realized he'd cut it into five. Even Toothless would get his cut, it seemed.

"Want to give Toothless his piece, darling?" he said, handing it to Moriah.

The little girl nodded eagerly and hopped down from her chair, carrying the sweets to where the dragon lay curled on the deck, napping in the sunshine. She tapped his shoulder gently.

Opening one green eye, he realized who was waking him and sat up with an eager expression, tongue hanging out. She held the small stack of cake up in her hands. His tongue darted out and snagged it delicately, swallowing it down in one gulp. Moriah dissolved in peals of happy laughter. She hugged his side before running back to the small table they'd set up for the party.

"Toothy liked his cake," she said, licking the honey off her fingers.

In fact, Toothless had licked his chops and followed her back to the table, where he sat patiently at attention behind her chair, clearly hoping for seconds.

"That's great, sweetheart. Did you make a wish on your candles?"

"Yep."

"Good," Emma sighed and went to stand at the rail. She found herself hoping that her daughter made a wish to find their family. Her brother Henry would be seventeen now.

How had two years gone by since they left Storybrooke? Things had started out logically enough. There was a point on the map that was the Enchanted Forest. There was a point on the map that was Berk. They had just needed to get to one from the other. Not an easy task, but straightforward enough, at least looking at lines on a map.

But reality had not been terribly cooperative thus far. Toothless and Hic had proved invaluable, scouting ahead for shoals and potential problems. But inevitably, they encountered the unexpected. Storms had risen with annoying regularity, blowing them far off their intended course time and again. The Jolly Roger was mostly impervious to damage from the sea due to enchantment, but her sails and pulleys and various things required repair with some frequency. And then there was the ever-pressing need for food and fresh water. After a month at sea, their stores had run low and they'd since been making frequent diversions to shore to scavenge for food and water. Fish was the basis of their current diet. Emma swore that if they ever got back to Storbrooke, she'd never touch fish again as long as she lived. Cheeseburgers and pasta and steak and roast chicken and french fries...Emma's stomach grumbled and she reminded herself for the thousandth time not to think about food. At least they had found honey and few other non-perishables at their latest stop. She always got her hopes up when they sighted a harbor. But, without exception, every dock led to empty villages and towns. Houses stood vacant, their contents waiting dustily for occupants who would never return. Nature was beginning to intrude again where human life had kept it at bay. Everyone was gone.

It made Emma want to scream in frustration. At this rate, it would be another two years before they made it to the Enchanted Forest. A few days ago, in desperation after yet another week-long storm, they'd asked Moriah to help them with a portal. Now that she was older, they thought she'd be able to understand and make a portal where they needed to go. She'd made the portal as they'd asked, but she apparently couldn't understand where she was supposed to make it to. Or perhaps she just couldn't control it as they'd hoped. They'd ended up at a point hundreds of leagues south, in sight of a shoreline that was not the one they sought. It would take weeks to make up the distance they'd lost.

Killian's arms went around her. She tried to relax, but she always got upset on birthdays and anniversaries. It was a reminder of how much she was missing of Henry's life, and Neal's and her parents'.

He kissed her neck. "It'll be all right, love. We'll get there."

"Will we?," she sounded petulant, and she knew it. "Say we do. What then? Every place we've put in to port has been as empty as the last. What if the Enchanted Forest is like that too? What then?"

They'd had this conversation, this argument, before. Many times. Killian always tried to reassure her, and lately that just made her angry. The truth was that they both thought there was a good chance she was right. And they hated confronting the idea that their destination, the Enchanted Forest, might hold more questions than answers.

"Daddy, why is Mommy sad?"

Moriah was tugging on his sleeve.

"Mommy misses our family, love. Your brother most especially."

"Oh. I thought she was sad because we haven't found the ice lady yet."

"Ice lady?"

Moriah nodded solemnly. Emma shared a puzzled look with Killian. Their daughter had a very active imagination. Emma supposed she had to, since life aboard a ship required people to make their own entertainment.

"The ice lady is very pretty and very lonely. We need to help her."

"Ahem." Hic cleared his throat behind them. "Would you like to open your present, MoJo?"

"A present?" She was jumping up and down, dark braid swinging and blue eyes sparkling with excitement.

Hic looked slightly nervous as he handed her the small package wrapped in canvas. He kept shooting hesitant looks at Emma, whose eyes were narrowing suspiciously.

"Yes!" shrieked Moriah. "My own harness?!"

She hugged Hic fiercely. He was giving Emma a half shrug and a look of apology. She put her hands on her hips and was about to open her mouth, when she felt Killian's elbow in her ribs. She realized when she saw his mischievous expression that her husband must have been in on this. She'd been stubbornly refusing to let her daughter ride around on Toothless. It was just too dangerous.

Killian whispered in her ear, "Let her have this Emma. There's so little opportunity for joy in her life."

"Well, I can't take it away now, can I?" she snapped.

Hic was attaching the leather straps to Toothless's harness. He lifted Moriah up and into it, tightening the straps snugly. At least it seemed like a secure way for her to ride. Emma sighed.

"Hic, be careful," she said, as he climbed into the harness behind her daughter.

He grinned at her sheepishly. At least he had the grace to look ashamed of himself for springing this on her.

"I will," he promised. Toothless lifted off the deck with a few smooth beats of his leathery wings. The Jolly Roger bobbed up and down with the force of his ascent. She heard her daughter shriek delightedly as they soared upward at great speed. Emma's heart was in her stomach. She closed her eyes, trying not to look.

Emma gave Killian an angry glare before heading below decks. He'd be sleeping on deck tonight.

"Emma..."

She stomped down the ladder, pulling the hatch closed behind her. Killian had the good sense not to follow her. An hour later, she felt the ship sink slightly with the weight of Toothless back aboard. She climbed the ladder and watched Killian lift Moriah out of the harness. She was talking excitedly in her little sing-song voice.

"-and we rolled, daddy! It was fun!"

"Killian, Emma...we need to talk."

Hic was pulling off his riding gloves, looking grave. Emma's stomach clenched. What now?

"A few leagues ahead, there's something weird going on."

"Weird how, mate?"

"The coastline we've been following these past few weeks suddenly becomes encased in a layer of ice. It's like the seasons change from autumn to winter at some invisible line. There appears to be a harbor and a village with a castle that are totally frozen over."

"Can we get close enough to check?"

"I suppose, but it seems like a bit of a risk taking the ship near the ice. The Harbor is totally iced over."

"Oh, that's because of the ice lady," piped up Moriah, who was leaning her flushed cheek against her father's shoulder.

"The ice lady? What do you mean, moppet?" asked Killian. Emma was paying attention now, too. It was too much of a coincidence.

"The ice lady. She's sad so she covers everything in ice. I dream about her. We're 'sposed to help her."

They all looked at her in surprise.

"How do we help her, Moriah?"

She shrugged sleepily. Her eyelids were growing heavy.

"We have to go to the-" she yawned widely. "-the ice castle. 's why I made the door. For the ice lady."

A snowflake fluttered softly down, landing on the tip of her little nose. She smiled drowsily. They put Moriah to bed in her cozy alcove beside their cabin and came back on deck to discuss. It was snowing now in earnest, the flakes falling faster and thicker as they sailed onward. Emma shivered in her red leather jacket.

* * *

They approached as close as they dared to the harbor, navigating between ice floes. A village and castle could indeed be made out within their thick carapace of ice. What could have done this, Emma wondered? Surely it was magic.

"Maybe we should sail on, Killian," she said, chewing her bottom lip. As eager as she was for a chance to get off the ship and stretch her legs, the frozen scene in front of them wasn't terribly inviting.

"No!" protested a small voice. Moriah had appeared after her nap and was stamping her foot, tiny fists balled at her sides. "We can't go. We need the ice lady!"

"We need her, love?" asked Killian gently.

"Yes. Or we won't make it to the castle. We need her."

"You're not making any sense, love. What castle?"

"The castle at the end. So we can get out of the puzzle."

Suddenly the ship creaked and groaned. They dashed to the starboard side, closest to the harbor. The ship was being rapidly surrounded by a thickening shell of ice. Killian ran to unfurl the main sail. It was frozen solid. The creaking of the wood hull of the ship was getting louder. Emma exhaled and saw her breath freeze in the air. She picked up Moriah and snuggled her close, both of them shivering.

The Jolly Roger was stuck fast in a field of ice in a matter of moments. They found themselves growing colder and colder with no means of staying warm. They would have to risk heading to the village to find a place to build a fire, preferably before darkness fell. They bundled up as best they could before trudging across the field of ice. Toothless and Hic flew low above them in the swirling snowflakes. When they reached the pier, they landed, both looking miserably cold. Hic patted Toothless.

"We'll get you warmed up, bud," he murmured thickly through the inch of frost covering the scarf across his face. Emma was sure her lips must be blue. They needed to find a place to warm up, pronto.

"There, that looks like an inn," said Killian, pointing at a handsome building completely encased with icicles. The entrance was hidden behind a foot of solid ice. Emma raised her palms and was grateful for the burst of warmth against her face when she summoned fire. She moved forward with the flames captured in her hands, pressing them against the wall of ice. It melted quickly to reveal the large wooden doors of the inn. She turned the knob and swung the leaves inward, keeping one hand full of fire. The flames dimly lit the gloomy, dark interior of the stone building. It was, of course, empty. There was a fireplace at one end of the room. She tossed a fireball at it. The wood stacked neatly inside burst into flames. The large room came to cheery life and they all breathed a sigh of relief, crowding inside. Toothless squeezed his way through the door and shook his wings out gratefully, shedding freezing cold water everywhere. There was a massive pile of firewood beside the fireplace, thankfully. Emma went to the kitchen, hoping to find something to cook for dinner and, if they were very lucky, some cocoa.

She'd found some frozen meats and vegetables in the larder that seemed perfectly fine after defrosting. No cocoa. They'd have to settle for hot tea. Emma threw all the stew ingredients into a pot and hung it over the fire with a few melting icicles. Crowding around the flames, they all held out their hands to the fireplace, trying to thaw out.

"Moriah, how do you know about this ice lady?" asked Emma.

"My dreams," she said, matter-of-factly.

"What do you dream?"

"I dream about you and me and daddy and Toothy and Hic. And the ice lady. And the king. And the archer."

"And what are we all doing together?"

"Solving the puzzle."

"Puzzle?"

"Uh huh," she nodded, her dark blue eyes reflecting the firelight. Emma thought, not for the first time, how much older than her years the little girl sometimes seemed. Expression solemn, she gazed distantly into the fire as though seeing scenes playing out in the dancing flames. "The puzzle to find the castle. Then we can find the real places with all the people in them."

Emma heard this with a thrill of dread. The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. She shared a worried look with Killian. After Moriah fell asleep, curled up in Toothless' forepaws, the three adults stayed up late talking.

"Do you suppose there's something to this, her dreams?" said Killian.

Hiccup was frowning as he poked absently at the burning logs. "Well, you said she seemed to know there would be a dragon before the first portal opened. Now she's evidently brought us to a place completely covered in ice after saying we needed to find the 'ice lady'." He shrugged, his leather gear creaking as he stretched his metal leg toward the warmth. "Seems like a heck of a coincidence."

"She is powerfully magical, we know that much. Between a double dose of True Love in the family and what happened with Yemaja while I was carrying her..." said Emma, trailing off in thought.

"Aye. A child that can open portals between realms by the age of 2? Perhaps there's a grain of truth in these dreams of hers," said Killian grimly. He sounded about as thrilled by this prospect as she was.

"If that's true, Killian, think about what she said. She said we would solve the puzzle that would lead us to the real places with all the people in them," her voice was tinged with the dawning horror of what that might mean.

"Bloody hell," whispered Killian. His face paled as he absorbed the import of this. "It's not all the people that have disappeared...it's just us?"

Emma frowned and nodded. "I'd never considered that possibility, but it makes sense. What if we were pulled into some alternate reality, and our families are the ones left behind, thinking we disappeared without a trace?"

"Holy crap," said Hic, sitting back in his chair with a shocked expression. He put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. When he finally raised his head, his hair was sticking up wildly and his eyes were wide as saucers. "Astrid...everyone...they probably think I'm dead. For four years now, they've thought I just disappeared," he said, the distress of this idea written all over his face. "I'm not sure if that's better or worse than all the other things I've been imagining."

Killian put his hand on his shoulder. "It's all right lad, we'll find a way. We always do."

Emma nodded grimly. "He's right, Hic. This family always finds each other."

After a restless night, they made preparations to set off in the gray dawn light in search of the ice castle. Moriah still insisted that's where they needed to go. The winter storm was still blowing, the whirls of snowflakes drifting down in a blur of white. They were waiting in front of the inn for their scouts to report back. As expected, Toothless swooped down to land in front of them.

Hic was swaddled in as many layers they could find, which had become covered in snow and ice as they flew, giving him the appearance of a rotund snowman. Toothless stamped his feet and puffed steamy breaths into the chill air, looking supremely unhappy with the flying conditions. Emma felt sorry for him.

"There's an ice castle, all right. But it's a ways off to say the least. See that mountain over there? That's where we're headed. Probably a couple days journey by foot."

"Days? We can't hike for days in this weather, let alone with a four year old child!" exclaimed Emma.

"Then let's not hike," said Hic. Emma couldn't tell beneath the layers of scarves, but she thought he might be smiling.

* * *

"You all right, Killian?" shouted Emma. The wind was whistling around them.

He didn't respond, just nodded. His eyes were clenched shut against the onrushing snowflakes. Emma grinned. For a man who'd climbed a beanstalk, and done a hundred other insanely dangerous things, Killian was having a surprising amount of trouble with their current situation. Other than being chilled to the bone, Emma found herself enjoying this. She looked down past the wooden floor of their makeshift pallet to see the white landscape blur beneath them, the adrenaline coursing through her veins. It had been a good idea, actually.

Hic had helped them cobble together a small wooden platform just wide enough for the two of them, lashed together with ropes. They fashioned a rope harness of sorts as best they could, which was slung over Toothless' back and around the base of his wings, like a saddlebag. The framework of rope was also draped snugly with fishing net for safety, and, Emma thought, to keep them from feeling like they could fall to their deaths at any moment. Emma was grateful for the illusion of safety. From this height, it would be a fatal fall for sure. The strong beats of Toothless' wings above them kept time in a slow, steady rhythm. Emma took Killian's spyglass and aimed it at the mountain that was their destination.

The castle was still a day's journey at least, especially since they had to stop to warm up every hour or so, but it was certainly better than walking. Well, she thought so anyway.

She smiled at Killian, who was clutching the netting and muttering to himself.

They began to descend toward a narrow clearing sheltered between two small mountain peaks. Emma flexed her gloved fingers. It was definitely time for a warm-up, and maybe some dinner. They were losing light. Toothless hovered gently over the snowy meadow while Hic loosened the straps. Their platform dropped a few feet into the snow with a soft whoosh. Killian clambered out quickly, offering Emma a hand.

"Glad to be back on the ground, Hook?" she smirked at him.

"Aye. I don't go in much for flying, Swan. Prefer to keep my feet planted firmly on the deck."

"Seems your daughter didn't inherit your dislike of flying," she said, nodding to where Hic was helping Moriah out of her little harness. Her scarf came undone as she dropped into the snow, revealing pink cheeks and eyes bright with excitement. She struggled through snow up to her waist to reach Toothless's head. She reached up and patted the spot between his eyes affectionately. He lowered his head further, inviting a kiss, which Moriah bestowed with a giggle. "Good dragon, Toothy," she said before running over to Emma.

"Brave lass. She must take after her mother," he looked at Emma mischievously and leaned in for a kiss.

They made camp there for the night, setting up a lean-to by the fire to keep the worst of the chill off. Emma was tossing the scraps from dinner into the flames when the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She was wondering if her imagination was running away with her until she saw that Toothless, who had been dozing by the fire, went rigid suddenly. His head was cocked and he was clearly listening for something.

"Killian-" she whispered warningly, but he'd apparently sensed trouble as well and had already moved to pick up Moriah, drawing his cutlass as he did. A massive roar shuddered through the evergreens, followed by a deep, concussive crashing. The trees a few hundred yards into the forest were snapping and bending with the force of whatever was making its way through it. Something big was coming at them, and it didn't sound nice at all. Hic had jumped up with alacrity and hopped onto his dragon. Emma knew there was no time to get their platform into place.

"Take Moriah, Hic!" yelled Killian as he plopped his daughter down in the harness in front of the boy.

"Get her out of here!" hollered Emma in agreement, as she backed away from the tree line.

"Daddy! Mommy!" shrieked Moriah, the terror in her voice cutting Emma to the bone.

Emma could feel the whooshes of air behind her as Toothless kicked up from the ground. She couldn't afford to take her eyes off the tree line. She could make out an enormous white mass forcing its way between the evergreens, thrusting aside hundreds of thick ancient trees as though they were twigs. Killian was suddenly by her side, cutlass raised. She pulled her gun and flicked off the safety, feeling very glad she'd decided to bring it after all.

A giant burst out of the forest, at least that's what Emma thought it must be. It appeared to be carved entirely from ice and glinted menacingly in the moonlight. It fixed beady black eyes on them and began to run toward them on muscled legs the size of tree trunks. Emma snapped out of her shock and fired at the creature. The bullets hit the thing's torso, but it didn't even seem to notice. Okay, plan B then. She holstered her gun and held up a palm, summoning a ball of flame. Fear seemed to flash through the creature's eyes, but still it came toward them. She threw the flame at it, watching in satisfaction as it hit the creature's right shoulder and blew a hole in it. Unfortunately, this seemed to only enrage it. The wound re-froze as they watched, returning the creature to wholeness. It roared again, and this time there was a chorus of answering roars coming from the forest behind it.

"Bloody hell," breathed Killian.

"You can say that again," she muttered, not knowing what to do next.

A dark shape dipped rapidly down from the sky, darting between them and the creature. It was Toothless, and he let loose a blazing stream of dragonfire as he passed, melting the giant's face right off. The creature struck out blindly, swinging its great arms in rage. One massive hand caught a glancing blow to Toothless's tail. Emma screamed in terror.

"No! Hic, get her out of here, we'll lead them off!" yelled Killian.

"But I can't leave you guys!" he yelled back, swooping around the giant's head again, narrowly dodging its blind attack.

"There are more coming!" yelled Emma. "Just get her out of here! Make for the castle, we'll catch up to you there!"

A second giant and then a third burst through the trees. They didn't wait to see if any more would be joining their friends. She and Killian made a mad dash for the forest opposite, tripping over boulders and branches as they went. The sounds of pursuit behind them crashed through the trees at their backs. Emma was panting and sweating, but they couldn't afford to slow down. She scrabbled her way through the darkness, Killian keeping pace just behind her. They climbed a snowy bank that rose in front of them, to come to a sudden stop at the top of it. They were looking down a steep slope. The smooth snow glowed bluish in the moonlight, broken here and there by rocks and scraggly pines. A roar ripped through the chilly air not far behind them.

Killian turned to her and held out his hand, eyebrow raised. She shook her head, heart pounding, and took it. They jumped, landing on their backsides a ways down the slope. The snow slid and gave beneath them, pushing them down the face of the mountain in a powdery wash. Gaining speed, Emma lost hold of Killian's hand. The rush of snow was growing larger and a rumbling behind them caused her to look back. She saw no trace of the giants, but a wall of snow was descending toward them like a tsunami of frozen slush.

They had started an avalanche.

* * *

Emma floated gently up out of unconsciousness, stretching languorously beneath the blankets. She didn't want to get up. Killian could take care of Moriah's breakfast this morning.

She frowned. What was that she could smell, woodsmoke? Unfamiliar wooden beams greeted her eyes when they fluttered open. What happened?

She sat up, groaning at the dizziness, bruises and sore muscles. She was in a small, dark cabin. A crackling fire danced merrily in the hearth, dispelling the chill. Snow was piling up against the counterpane. Snow!

She tossed aside the blanket and stood, wobbling slightly as a wave of dizziness passed. There'd been an avalanche. Where was Killian? And come to think of it, where were her clothes? She stood there naked and shivering, before spying her clothes spread out on the hearth. She put a hand to her jeans. Sopping wet. Deciding to let them dry out, she instead wrapped up in a blanket from the bed and sat in the chair before the fire, listening to the howling wind whistle through the chimney. Moriah...she was out there somewhere, scared, possibly freezing, maybe even injured.

The door banged open, accompanied by a gust of freezing wind. Killian stumbled in, looking iced over. He carried the load of firewood to the hearth, limping slightly, and tossed it down in the empty bin before peeling off his wet clothing. Emma reached up and took his hand. It felt like ice.

"Killian-"

"No sign of them, Emma," he said, looking at her regretfully. She could see the terror and exhaustion in his face.

"We need to go look for them," she said, reaching for her wet jeans. She wasn't going to leave her baby out in a blizzard.

"Emma-"

"They're out there in this storm, Killian. She's frightened, and cold and -" her voice cracked. She struggled to pull one pant leg up.

"Listen to me, damn it. It's a blizzard out there. It's dark. We have no idea where we are-" his voice was raising as she continued to ignore him, fighting to pull on her wet socks and shaking her head stubbornly, "-much less where they are, and we can't track them through the bleeding sky, Emma! Not to mention the damned giants, woman!"

Emma reached for her t-shirt, wringing the water out of it before sliding it on. Her teeth were chattering.

"Emma-"

"Let go of me!" she snapped at him. He'd grabbed her arm when she reached for her jacket.

"I'm not going to let you get yourself killed! We're bloody lucky we found this cabin. We need to stay here until morning. Are you listening?!"

"I'm not leaving our baby out there!"

"She's protected by a dragon and a viking, Emma. They're probably doing a damned sight better than we are, off the ground! You've likely got a bloody concussion, I can barely walk on this twisted ankle, and there are creatures in this forest that will rip us limb from limb if we venture outside."

He was gripping her shoulders now, his hook digging into her skin and eyes blazing. She was shivering with cold and anger.

"Fine, you stay here then!"

"Bloody stubborn woman!"

"Where are my boots?!" she yelled, stomping around the cabin in her stocking feet.

"I hid them."

"You what?!" she was glaring at him, hands clenched on her hips.

"I knew you'd want to do something stupid like tromp around the woods at night, so I hid them."

They stared at each other in silence, both of them seething with fury. She held his gaze as she snatched up her holster and buckled it in place. She stomped to the door and yanked it open, giving him one more scathing glance before throwing herself into the blizzard.

"Damn it, Swan!"

She could hardly see a foot in front of her. He must've hid them out here somewhere. Maybe there was a shed or something. She felt a hand circle her wrist like a band of iron and she was jerked backward without warning. She was being tossed unceremoniously over his shoulder. She shrieked and struggled, hitting his backside and thrashing her legs.

They'd stepped back into the cabin, the door shutting out the swirling snow behind them. She managed to knee him in the chest and he went down, dropping them both to the floor in front of the fireplace. She scrambled to get up, but he grabbed her and pinned her beneath him, crushing her to the rug.

"Emma, just listen, love, please!" he wheezed, trying to catch his breath. Emma heard the note of pleading in his voice and it reached her through her anger. She willed herself to calm down and took several deep breaths. Her head was spinning again. He apparently took her silence as acquiescence.

"I'm worried about her too, Emma. Terrified. But Hic and Toothless will see to it that the lass is protected. We can't track them, but we know where they're headed. They may well be nearing the castle already, if they kept flying through the night. Tomorrow morning, at first light, we will set out for the castle. And we will find them."

The determination in his voice was reassuring. Emma relaxed and let the tension drain from her body. She couldn't trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded. Her eyes welled with tears and she looked upward, blinking, to fight them.

"Love..." he whispered, kissing her gently.

"Killian - I'm just so scared."

"I know, darling. She'll be all right. She's got your brains and courage, thank god."

She gave him a watery smile. "And her father's charm."

"Aye, and my looks too, lucky lass."

Emma chuckled. She became suddenly aware that he was lying full length on top of her, bare chested. The warmth of his body seeped through her frigid layer of wet clothing. A chill ran up her spine.

"Cold, love?" he asked. The sudden heat in his gaze was unmistakable. Her breath quickened. His lips touched hers in a delicious frisson of slick warmth. Her hands had been braced against his shoulders. She now slid them around his back, caressing his smooth shoulders, enjoying the ripple of muscles beneath the skin.

A lengthening hardness against her thigh told her he needed this as much as she did. She parted her lips, deepening the kiss. Her breasts were pressing against his chest, the cold wet fabric puckering against the stiffening peaks of her nipples.

Killian's breathing was growing ragged. He kissed his way down her neck. Peeling off her wet clothing was a relief. Her skin rippled in gooseflesh as she lay before him by the fire, watching him strip off the last of his own wet clothing. He stood before her, skin glowing copper in the firelight. His dark hair glistened wetly. She licked her lips, which felt chafed from the cold weather and from his urgent kisses and his stubbled jaw. Her desire rose fast and hot within her, like a coil of liquid fire licking at her core. He knelt between her thighs, bowing his head to suckle her hardened nipples. She clutched his damp hair, arching her back. The sensitive tips of her breasts were aching with need.

She parted her legs in unspoken invitation. He sheathed himself in her to the hilt in one fluid motion. God, he felt good, filling her so completely. She rocked herself against him, pulling him deeper and feeling her climax rising. Sliding in and out of her in a rapid rhythm, he kept a nipple clamped between his teeth, nibbling and sucking. Her core was slick with need and wanting. He'd found that spot that made her lose all control. The wave of her climax was beginning to take her when he propped himself up and began to pound her more quickly, more intensely. He was getting close, she could feel it. The thought of him coming inside her brought to a swift, violent peak. The wave crashed and broke, leaving her trembling in his arms. He was carried away by the force of it, calling her name as he filled her with his seed.

They lay by the fire for a long time, stroking each other's skin in the gentle flickering light, taking comfort, as they both tried to see a little girl's fate through the whirl of the storm.

* * *

They'd been traveling for three days when they finally reached it. Fortunately, the weather had dawned clear and warm the morning they left the cabin. They made relatively good time, despite the drifts. Emma's relief was overwhelming when the castle came into view. A stair formed from lacy filaments of ice rose elegantly from the snowy mountainside. It led to an imposing but delicate structure that hovered above them like a spire of glass. There was no sign of life anywhere. Hearts in their throats, they climbed.

"What now?" Emma asked Killian softly, when they entered the great hall. Her voice echoed faintly in the glittering arch of the dome above. The place was lovely, despite the cold. It was also, apparently, unoccupied.

"Emma, love...do you hear that?"

She cocked her head. "Is that..."

They grinned at each other. She'd recognize her daughter's laughter anywhere. They took the stairs two at a time in their haste. Bursting through the double door at the top of the stair, they saw Moriah seated comfortably in front of a roaring fireplace, which Emma noted was also fashioned entirely from ice. It made for a beautiful, but impossible, juxtaposition. She didn't have time to marvel over this, however. With a happy shriek, Moriah bounded out of her chair and ran toward her parents. Emma and Killian knelt to scoop her into their arms, holding her so tightly she started to squirm.

"You must be Emma and Killian," called a woman's lovely voice. Emma hadn't registered the other occupant of the room. A tall, stunning woman rose from her chair. Her delicate blue gown whispered around her legs as she approached them. A long blond braid hung heavily over her shoulder, a few tendrils escaping over her porcelain brow.

"Mommy, daddy, this is Elsa. The ice lady! She's teaching me to play chess!" exclaimed Moriah, pointing at the ice figurines on the small table by the fire.

Emma faced the woman with her usual suspicion hitched firmly into place. She looked harmless enough, but the enchantment this place was under was done by someone extremely powerful. Elsa was smiling graciously at them. Killian bowed slightly to her as she approached. Emma elbowed him in the ribs.

"Thank you for looking after our daughter," he said, elbowing her right back.

"It was truly my pleasure. When she and Hiccup arrived a few days ago, it was the first time in years that I'd seen another person. It's...been a bit of an adjustment."

"Ah, so this kingdom is empty save yourself? And where is Hiccup, if I might ask?"

"Your companion is flying around searching for you, as he has done each of the last three days. He should be back any moment. As to your other questions: yes. My people disappeared four years ago. I'd come up here for a few days alone, to clear my head. Life at court was sometimes...trying. What I wouldn't give for a day of it now, though," she said, shaking her head with a sad smile. "When I returned, the kingdom was empty."

"Court? Are you royalty then?" asked Emma.

Elsa looked faintly surprised. "Yes, I am Queen of Arendelle. Though at the moment, I'm afraid that doesn't mean very much, considering I have but one subject."

"I'm sorry, Elsa, I have to ask. Did you create...all this?" asked Emma, gesturing at the ice castle glistening majestically around them.

Elsa looked down and blushed, clearly a bit embarrassed.

"She did, mommy she did! Elsa has magic too!" piped in Moriah.

Elsa smiled. "It's true. I learned to control my powers years ago, but when I found myself alone...it was a difficult time. I admit I might have gotten a little carried away. I've let the winter grow unbridled for a long time now."

"Doesn't the cold bother you?" asked Killian.

"No, it never did," smiled Elsa.

A dark shadow soared around the windows of the great hall.

"Toothy's back!" yelled Moriah.

* * *

The trip back down the mountain was substantially easier than the one getting there. Elsa, it seemed, was very powerful indeed. She crafted a sled for them with a snap of her elegant fingers. Reindeer rose from the snow at the sweep of her hand. Though they were made from ice, they pulled effectively enough. Toothless and Hiccup also had a much easier time of it now that Elsa had stopped the storm. Toothless had swooped and soared over the melting landscape, clearly delighting in the warmer breezes, and beat them handily to the harbor.

The ice that had locked in the harbor was nearly thawed by the assault of the autumn sunshine. Another day and they'd be ready to set sail. Elsa stood at the bow of the Jolly Roger, gazing intently at the picturesque village and castle that were slowly emerging from their frozen cocoon, as though trying to commit them to memory.

Emma joined her at the railing, saying nothing. They exchanged a small smile of understanding. Emma grasped her hand briefly where it rested on the rail. They were all in this together.

"Come on, ice lady. Let's go find our people."


	6. King

Elsa arched an eyebrow at her tiny opponent. Moriah was hunched over the board, focusing intently on the chess pieces. After a long moment, she reached a tentative little hand forward to nudge her knight into position.

"Sure you want to do that?" asked Elsa, with a faint warning in her tone.

Moriah, the picture of seriousness, nodded and sat back on the stump she was using for a chair, folding her arms stubbornly.

Elsa smothered her smile before making her countermove, sliding the icy little bishop figurine into position. "Check."

She couldn't help but laugh at the surprised expression on Moriah's face, who clearly thought she'd been on the verge of winning. Elsa had to admit, the little girl was getting good. Shockingly good, for not just any new player much less one of four and half years of age. They'd been playing nightly games since the day they'd met, nearly six months ago. Elsa had certainly never met a child so young with the patience, let along capability, to learn the art of chess. It was vaguely unnerving.

"I'll remember that move next time," said Moriah, with an adorably determined set of her jaw that suddenly reminded Elsa devastatingly of her own sister, Anna, when she was a child. Her eyes filled with sudden tears and she closed them hurriedly. She felt tiny arms go around her neck and she smiled as she returned the hug.

"Don't be sad, Elsa. We'll find Anna."

Elsa felt small hands patting her back gently and nodded, trying not to sniffle. Her diminutive yet worthy opponent skipped back toward the campfire, braids swinging, to where her parents sat side by side against a log. Everyone was drowsing in the warmth of the small blaze, including Hic and Toothless. They were curled up and snoring in a dark pile of leather and scales in the semi-darkness. Emma was snuggled against Killian's chest, eyes half-closed. He was stroking her arm absently, his chin resting against her golden hair as he gazed into the flames. Elsa's heart constricted again, as it often did watching them.

She took a shuddering breath. She probed the edges of the numb hollowness in her heart, pressing here and there with memories as if to make sure she could still hurt. Thinking of her family, of her lack of a love like Emma and Killian's, of her unhealthy solitary state the last four years...these all brought familiar pangs of pain. Isolation had been her ally for most of her life. It had been a necessary safeguard, protecting Anna, and everyone else, from the danger of her powers. But then she'd had a few years of blissful freedom from that solitude. She'd found a release from the iron bands of fear that had imprisoned her, thanks to her sister. Anna and her husband Kristoff, their little baby girl Agnethe, even the enchanted snowman Olaf, they had tugged her out of her self-made prison and into the daylight. More than that, they had helped her embrace her powers and become who she was meant to be. She had been part of her family again and celebrated as the ruler of her people. She'd even begun to imagine their parents would be proud of her. Then, one day, she awoke to find that she was a captive of solitude once again.

For four years she'd paced the icy confines of her castle, when one day a man riding a dragon (a dragon!) swooped into her great room with a laughing little girl in tow. Elsa remembered that moment with a crystal clarity: the thrumming excitement at hearing another human voice, the tentative fear that she was dreaming or going mad, the heart-stopping joy of touching Moriah's little heart-shaped face and finding her real.

She wasn't sure if they would succeed in this quest she'd been recruited to, if you could even call it that. It was more of a vague trust they had placed in the dreams of a small child, for lack of a better plan. Perhaps it was foolishness, but, no matter what happened, at least she wasn't alone anymore. A spark of gratitude hummed in her chest, filling the void. She melted the chess set away with a fluid wave of her hand and went to join the others around the fire.

She shifted uncomfortably as she walked. The woolen breeches still chafed a bit. Wearing nothing but silk gowns most of your life didn't prepare one for weeks spent riding horses and sleeping rough. She had to admit though, the adventure of it all had her grinning to herself like an idiot at times. Being a queen didn't leave much opportunity for gallivanting off to strange new lands. And being off the Jolly Roger was certainly a huge relief, as well. Killian was a fine captain, but after what happened to her parents all those years ago, she'd harbored a creeping distrust of the ocean in general and sea-going vessels in particular. Wrapping her rough woolen cloak tighter around her, she settled in opposite the Jones' family and stretched her leather boots gratefully toward the embers.

"Nearly have you beaten, did she?" murmured Killian, nodding slightly to the sleeping figure of his daughter curled up in his wife's lap.

"Indeed. Something of a prodigy you have there, Killian," replied Elsa. She lowered her hood and flipped her long heavy braid over her shoulder with a weary sigh. A brief, longing thought of a hot bath crossed her mind, and she pushed it firmly away.

"She must get it from you, Hook," muttered Emma. "I never got the hang of chess."

"Long months at sea with little opportunity for distraction was the means by which I came by it," he said, gazing down at Moriah with distinct pride. "I'm proficient at best. This little one's already giving me a run for my coins."

They let the conversation lapse and sat in companionable silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the symphony of crickets. It had been another long day's journey, and they were still a few days away from the stone keep that was their destination.

* * *

They woke with the dawn and shared a meager breakfast before setting off again. Elsa summoned their mounts with a deliberate sweep of her hand. Three large geldings, glistening white in the sunshine, materialized from the woods, pawing impatiently at the soft carpet of needles. It had taken them some time to figure out how best to travel here. The terrain was rough and varied, changing from rocky to mountainous to forest to meadow in the space of a day, and the distance they needed to travel was quite far. Too far, in fact, for Toothless to comfortably fly them all, or for Elsa to conjure snowfall so they could travel by sled. Instead, she'd managed, after some rather disturbing trial and error, to fashion horses from ice and snow. With the right enchantment, they would stay frozen for the journey. They were still a bit rough in the details, but she was getting better every day. Elsa climbed atop hers with a stifled groan. She wasn't as saddle sore as she had been the first week, but it was still damned uncomfortable. She looked up longingly to where Toothless swirled in the air high above. He was swooping languidly in the spring breeze. The geldings were far faster than real horses, and smoother in their gait, but Toothless was faster still.

At lunchtime, she called the horses to a stop in a grassy meadow, redolent with scattered wildflowers. Toothless swooped in for an elegant landing, his lunch hanging from his front legs. Apparently, there were sheep nearby. Moriah hopped out of her harness pink-cheeked and happy. Her days were spent in the air with Toothless and Hic, as she preferred flying to riding. Elsa shuddered and tightened her hand on the reins. She was with Killian - better to have her feet on solid ground than to risk diving upside down strapped to a two ton winged beast.

Elsa dismounted and strode into the nearby woods, seeking a place to relieve herself. It was a lovely day. The spring sunshine dappled the forest floor with light. She hummed to herself as she walked, a little tune her sister used to sing.

"Do you wanna build a snowmaaaan..."

The trees parted abruptly to reveal a small lake set amongst a cropping of mossy boulders. The water was stunningly clear and inviting. She hesitated only a moment before beginning to strip down. She needed a bath in the worst way, and there was no one around to see. A toe dipped into the waters indicated it was not the warmest of pools, but the cold never had bothered her much. She walked forward determinedly, untying her braid and tossing her loose hair around her head in a tempest of blond waves as she did so, and dove in.

Gliding through the cool depths, she kicked strongly, glorying in the clean feeling. Surfacing, she spied a large rock formation in the center of the lake and struck out for it. Her muscles loosened and relaxed as she found a rhythm. The smooth face of the large boulder was warm to her touch. She felt a sudden impulse to lay out in the sun for a few moments in the peace and quiet. She took a look around, was satisfied she was alone, and conjured a small platform beneath her. A pillar of ice raised her smoothly, dripping wet, to the top of the boulder.

The pillar came even with the top of the boulder in the blink of an eye and she had just put a foot forward to step off onto it, when she realized suddenly she wasn't alone. A man was laying sprawled out on his back across the warm face of the rock. A naked man. He sat up in shock at her sudden appearance. She jerked back with a small shriek, suddenly off balance. Arms windmilling, she caught a glimpse of a handsome face before falling backward off the pillar. A brief, heart-stopping fall and then she was in the water. The cold embrace of the lake enveloped her, swirling and confusing in the dark shadow of the boulder. She hadn't taken much of a breath before falling in. Kicking in what she hoped was the direction of the surface, she suddenly felt a strong arm wrap around her torso, pulling her upward. They broke the surface of the water, gasping for breath. Elsa coughed weakly, turning as best she could in the tight embrace of her rescuer. She met a pair of soft brown eyes, wide with surprise and, she thought, concern.

"Milady, are you all right?" he gasped.

She nodded, still coughing. She pushed a thick strand of wet hair out of her eyes and took a closer look at him. He was handsome and she thought likely around her own age, mid-twenties. Blond hair clung to his forehead, which was broad and unlined. His skin was slightly tanned, and an attractive smattering of freckles graced his aquiline nose. Those warm brown eyes were actually so light as to be almost amber, and fringed with light blond lashes. Elsa thought she could count the drops of water clinging to them, she was so close. A blush was creeping up his cheeks and to his ears. She realized in a sudden, mortifying rush that the muscular body holding her aloft in the water, which was sliding so sinfully against her own in the effort to keep them afloat, was completely and utterly naked. As was she. Her nipples were agonizingly taut and pressing into his chest like a pair of diamonds. She thought perhaps, from the feel of things, he was not unaware of this. An answering blush crept up her own neck and she felt her cheeks ignite in a veritable flame of embarrassment. Pushing away, she tried to catch her breath. They bobbed in the water a few feet apart, mouths working silently. She could think of nothing to say, and apparently, neither could he. Snapping hers shut, she turned abruptly and started swimming hard for the shore, and her clothing.

He made no move to stop her. She clambered out of the water, conjuring a screen of opaque ice behind her as she rose. He wouldn't be able to see through that, she hoped. She froze the water on her skin into fine particles of ice and shook them off. Pulling her clothes on hurriedly, she peeked around the ice curtain to see what had become of her rescuer. Seeing no sign, she frowned. She finished dressing quickly and let the curtain drop. Where did the man go?

As if conjured by her thoughts, a figure approached from the other side of the lake. It was him. He was pulling on a shirt as he deftly navigated the rocky shore. She wasn't sure if she should run and find the others, or if she wanted to press herself back into his arms again. Her heart hammered as he came closer, the sun glinting in the thick mass of blond and copper crowning his head. He was adjusting a belt with a scabbard attached. It was a rather impressive-looking broadsword and it looked completely at home against its owner's well-shaped thigh. Elsa shook out her hands, ready to conjure a defense at the first sign of treachery from this stranger. She met his eyes as cooly as she could, straightening her posture to the haughty stance Anna had nicknamed "Ice Bitch."

He stopped a dozen paces away and gave her a long, considered look. His expression was unreadable, but she thought he was endeavoring not to look below her neckline. There was certainly caution, perhaps even hesitation, in his eyes. They stared at each other in silence for several moments.

Finally, he broke it with a formal, "Milady, are you all right?"

"Yes, I am. Thank you," she replied, trying to sound dignified. It was difficult, considering they had been naked and embracing a few minutes ago. She felt her blush return with a vengeance.

He hesitated for a moment, then burst forth with a question that was clearly weighing on him. "Forgive me, but...are you a sorceress?"

Whatever she had been expecting, it wasn't that. She laughed, feeling the tension go out of her. When she looked up he was staring at her with a hesitant smile, looking a bit perplexed.

"I suppose, in a way, yes."

Elsa was waiting for him to look frightened, but instead he grinned broadly. She found herself grinning back at him.

"I was hoping it was something like that."

"I am Elsa, of Arendelle," she said, bending in a slight curtsy.

"I am Arthur, of Camelot."

"How about some lunch, Arthur? It seems I owe you a debt for saving my life. Perhaps I can repay it with sandwiches."

His grin widened. "Your gratitude overwhelms me, milady. How could I refuse?"

She turned and headed back toward the clearing, Arthur ambling gracefully at her side.

"You travel alone?"

"No, I have companions. You?"

Arthur was shaking his head. "I know this is going to sound strange, but I've...been alone here for almost five years."

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye as he said this, looking as though he was braced for her to call him crazy. She stopped and laid a hand on his arm. "You're not mad, Arthur. The same thing happened to all of us."

An expression of relief, swiftly followed by confusion, flickered over his handsome features. She found herself mesmerized by the play of emotions over his face. He was like an open book which she merely had to learn to read. They continued on their way, breaking through the treeline.

Elsa struck out for the campsite. The curl of smoke was the only indicator where her friends were making camp among the tall grasses. "Hallo!" she called, as they approached. "I've found someone!"

Emma and Killian's heads popped up, followed by Hic's, and a moment later, Toothless raised his own, his immense green eyes shining with curiosity. The response of her new companion was immediate. He grabbed her arm, shoving her roughly behind him as he drew his sword in a shockingly fluid movement. The sword itself gleamed brightly in the sunlight, hovering sharply in its wielder's hands like a snake poised to strike. Toothless reared and stretched his wings out wide, looking incensed. There was shouting, cursing, and general chaos.

"Stay back, Milady! There is a dragon in our midst!" he shouted, not taking his eyes off his presumed enemy, who was to all appearances mightily offended.

"I know that, damn it!" she shouted back. Toothless flapped his wings, lifting himself a few feet above the field. The grasses rippled in the sudden gusts. She knew how sweet the beast truly was, but she admitted he looked fearsome at first glance. The sword in Arthur's hands pulled back menacingly as if he meant to throw the blade.

"Stop it at once!" she yelled, extending a hand toward the outstretched weapon. A stream of ice encased it instantaneously, weighing it down with a few hundred stone of frozen water. It fell from Arthur's hand to land harmlessly in the grass. He stood staring at it, bewildered, for a heartbeat before turning to her with a look of consternation.

"Toothless, sit down at once!" she shouted, stamping her foot impatiently and pointing at the dragon. She used her best authoritarian tone of voice, usually reserved for tax collectors or Sven the recalcitrant reindeer. To her surprise, he complied hastily and landed with a loud whomp, tucking in his wings and looking rather contrite.

"Arthur, meet Toothless. Toothless, meet Arthur, of Camelot," she said, sweeping her arm between them dramatically and rolling her eyes.

"Did you say...Camelot?" came Emma's voice, sounding dazed.

"Yay! Elsa found the king!" shrieked Moriah. King? Elsa frowned in puzzlement. The little girl came bounding through the grass, coming to stand in front of Arthur. Barely coming up to his hip, she nonetheless remained unintimidated in true Moriah Jones style. She curtsied as Elsa had been teaching her. It was a bit wobbly, but decent form. Arthur smiled down at her and executed an elegant bow.

"How did you know I was a King, young lady?"

"My name is Moriah Jones. And I dreamed it, so I knew it would happen."

Killian has come forward to pick up his daughter.

"My daughter Moriah you've met, your highness. I am Captain Killian Jones, and this is my wife Emma Swan. And I believe you met Toothless already. His rider there is Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, but he's either Hic or Haddock to us."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain," Arthur replied smoothly. "I admit it's been quite some time since I've conversed with other people. Forgive me if I'm a bit rusty," he added, with a bow in the direction of the aggrieved Toothless. The dragon nodded approvingly at this change in demeanor and settled down in the grass, looking ready for a nap.

"So you've been alone as well then? Let me guess, almost five years now," interjected Emma. "And are you really King Arthur of Camelot?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, on both counts. I'm really awfully glad to see you all, in truth. I think I would've let the dragon have a go at me, just for the chance to eat a meal with another human being."

"You're welcome to join us for lunch, mate. Though it's not the sort of fare that a king would be used to-" he nodded in Elsa's direction and added "-or a queen for that matter, although she's used to it by now."

Arthur turned to her, looking stunned again. "Queen?"

"Er, yes. I'm Queen of Arendelle."

"A sorceress and a queen? A formidable combination."

He was appraising her with frank admiration in his gaze. Elsa blushed again and headed for the campfire, busying herself to hide her confused thoughts. King Arthur, indeed. She could feel those amber eyes pressing their warm weight against her back. Her nipples tightened and she found herself pressing her thighs together, thinking of that moment in the lake. As if Emma could read her thoughts, she gave her a wicked, knowing smile as she helped Elsa make the sandwiches.

They made plans to return to the Jolly Roger without delay. They apparently had what they came for, in the person of King Arthur. He'd heard their tale and readily agreed to come along, though he looked askance at the idea that Moriah's dreams were guiding their journey. Hic pointed out that she hadn't been wrong so far.

"Indeed," Arthur said politely, if skeptically. "In that case, where are we off to next?"

Moriah piped up excitedly, oblivious to his disbelieving tone. "Only one left! The Archer."


	7. Archer

_sorry for the slow updates everyone...summer, ya know? Much more coming soon, promise!_

"And who might you be, then?"

The voice was clearly that of a young woman, but Killian could see nothing of her face, shadowed as it was by the hood of her cloak and the dappled shade of the trees. The tip of the arrow she had pointed at his heart, by contrast, was quite visible and glinting menacingly in the afternoon sun.

Hands still raised, and batting his lashes at her in his most innocent fashion, he ventured a polite reply. "My name is Killian Jones. And you are?"

"I'll be asking the questions, if you please."

The firm note of command in her voice was unmistakable. The soft, melodic accent was harder to place. He made a subtle bow indicating acquiescence.

"What is it you're doing here?"

He hesitated, weighing the best approach, and settled on honesty. The arrow was still aiming for his vitals and the lass looked as though she knew what she was about. No sense beating about the bush. "It's rather a complicated tale, but I believe...well I believe we're looking for you, as a matter of fact."

"Ye didna come alone, then?" came the sharp retort.

"Nay, there are others. My family-"

He was cut off in his reply by the loud crackling of someone approaching in the brush behind him. His daughter's voice was babbling in a happy singsong, Emma's and Elsa's carrying the tune more clearly. Killian groaned internally. It was that infernal snowman song that Elsa had taught them. Moriah had learned it with obvious delight and insisted on singing it as often as possible, which was a great deal oftener than her father would've liked. An 'ear worm' Emma had called it. Too right.

"Do you wanna build a snowmaaa-oh!" Emma had just stepped through the bush and frowned in confusion when she saw him standing there with his hands raised. An instant later she realized the reason. She shoved Moriah behind her and held up her palm, summoning fire instantly. Her eyes were blazing bright blue and she practically bristled with protective ferocity. Damn, she was so bloody sexy when she was fighting. He'd have to tell her so, if they ever got a moment alone again...

"Wait, love!" he said, stepping between his wife and the archer and hoping fervently that he wouldn't get an arrow in the back for his troubles.

"Mommy! That's her! That's her!" shrieked Moriah excitedly. Emma was restraining her with one-handed difficulty.

"Her? The archer is a woman?" said Elsa, sounding wary. Great, thought Hook. She too was holding up a slender hand, which to the untrained eye may seem harmless enough but he knew better. If he didn't do something to defuse the situation immediately, the'd all go down in a shower of ice, fire and razor sharp projectiles.

"Everyone needs to bloody well calm down!" he said, holding up his hands placatingly in both directions.

Elsa was first to lower her hand, hesitantly. He saw Emma relax ever so slightly also, her stance shifting from battle-mode into guarded hostility. Moriah was peeking out from behind her, her little face eager.

"Mommy, I want to learn to shoot a bow and arrow. Like Grandma!"

Emma was still watching the figure behind him with narrowed eyes, but her mouth quirked up at one corner and she hugged the little girl to her leg. The ball of fire hovering in her palm winked out. Killian exhaled and turned slowly to face the figure still semi-concealed in the treeline. He raised a jaunty eyebrow at the archer, trying for a light-hearted tone. "Mystery archer, may I introduce my wife, Emma. Your would-be apprentice there is our daughter, Moriah. The other lady is Queen Elsa of Arendelle."

She appeared to be weighing whether to respond with an arrow or an introduction. Evidently, she decided in favor of civility. The arrow was lowered, and he heard the women behind him sigh with relief.

The archer stepped forward nimbly from the trees, drawing down the hood of her cloak as she did so. She must be a stealthy huntress, he thought. Even in skirts and cloak she rustled nary a leaf. The heavy wool of the hood dropped away and he sucked in a startled breath in spite of himself. She was a stunning young woman, not much more than twenty, with fair skin and enormous blue eyes that he had a feeling would fairly sparkle with mischief in the right circumstances. At the moment, however, they looked wary and mistrustful. What had shocked him - and from the sound of surprise he heard from Emma, he wasn't alone -was the positively wild mane of red curls which exploded around her head like a fiery cloud. He'd never seen the like.

She took a few steps toward them and stopped, the finely carved bow balanced in her delicate hands as though it were an extension of her own limbs.

"I," she said with a proud lift of her chin, "am Merida, Princess of Dunbroch."

Suddenly a familiar thrum approached from the skies behind them. He was still watching Merida, and saw the flicker of fear that crossed her face. It was followed almost instantaneously with a glare of determination as she raised her bow to her cheek with an impossibly swift, elegant motion and loosed an arrow, all within the space of a breath. She had another one nocked so quickly he shook his head, hardly believing it. Under different circumstances, he would've been deeply impressed. As it was, he knew what it was she was aiming at, and found him yelling at her in a panic not to shoot. He was vaguely aware of Emma and Moriah screaming as well.

Merida was sparing him no attention. She was focusing on her target with bloody single-mindedness, tracking it with the point of her arrow. He was hoping that she wasn't as good a shot as he thought she probably was. A thick scatter of rain drops struck his face as he reached for her arm, momentarily blinding him. When did it start raining? He wiped his eyes, and was shocked to see a thick red smear appear across his fingers. A coppery taste met his tongue just as he realized what it was. Toothless! She'd shot him! Rage tightened his grasp on her arm as he grabbed her roughly. The arrow she'd nocked fell harmlessly into the grass. He met her shocked expression with one of fury.

"What do you think you're doing? That's a friend of ours, you bloody fool!"

Her look of startlement transformed into an outraged scowl as she wrested her arm from his grasp with surprising strength. Before he knew what had happened, he was on his back in the grass, reeling with pain and gasping for breath. The wee lass had kneed him in the bollocks!

When he regained the ability to breathe, he struggled to his knees and looked round. He caught sight of Emma's red leather jacket disappearing through the trees and made to follow, wincing.

He burst into another small clearing to see Emma running at full tilt, Moriah and Elsa holding hands and running at a slower pace after her. His heart sank as he saw what they were running toward. A dark mass lay unmoving on the heather. Toothless...was he...?

He ran faster, rising panic giving him speed. He'd nearly caught up to Elsa and Moriah when a strangled groan rose off to his right beyond a small hill. Stepping over it, he saw the sprawled form of Arthur. He bent down at his side helping him to sit up. Blood was trickling from his scalp, staining the gold and russet mop of his hair. Groaning and disoriented, he looked round at Hook with a confused expression.

"What happened?"

"Long story short, we found the archer," he said grimly, pulling the man to his feet. Arthur wobbled but didn't go down.

"I remember riding Toothless with Hic, scouting ahead. We circled back and saw you lot down below. Next thing I know, I'm flying through the air."

"Aye, it was the archer..the bloody woman shot Toothless."

"She what?!"

"Come on, mate."

Arthur was limping as well. Killian looped his arm over his shoulder and supported him as they made their way toward where their little group was gathered around the too-still form of the black dragon. He felt a lump in his throat and swallowed hard.

"Emma...is he..." he couldn't bring himself to ask the question, instead looking into her eyes for answers. She looked worried, and upset, but she shook her head. He sighed with relief.

"Where's Hic?" he asked.

"I'm here, Killian," came Hic's voice. It sounded strained. Killian handed Arthur off to Elsa, who swept in with alacrity, and walked around the dragon, following the voice.

Hic was pinned beneath an unconscious Toothless. The dragon was still breathing, albeit irregularly. A disturbingly large pool of blood was spreading beneath his body.

"It's my metal leg, it's trapped in the harness," said the boy, in obvious pain. "But don't worry about me, help Toothless!"

"Elsa! Can you create some sort of lever with ice? So we can push him off Hic?"

"That's an idea! Not a lever though. More like a wedge, maybe?"

Elsa positioned herself behind Hic and swept her hands upward. A wedge of ice began to form under Toothless, rising beneath his inert form like a frozen mushroom. His body rolled heavily away from Hic. Killian grabbed the boy under his arms and pulled, dragging him several feet clear.

Emma knelt by him, checking for injuries. His breeches were soaked with blood, but it none of it appeared to be his own.

"I don't think anything is broken-"

"I said help Toothless, damn it!" Hic was shaking with shock. His right arm was bent at an awkward angle and it looked like he had a few broken fingers on that hand to boot, Killian thought, wincing. He put a hand on Hic's shoulder and squeezed.

"We'll take care of him, lad," he promised, without having a clue how.

They all crowded around the injured dragon. Moriah had quietly approached him after they extricated his rider and laid her head against his, tears sliding down her cheeks. Now that he was rolled over, Killian could see where the arrow had hit. There was a feathered shaft protruding from the fleshy spot just behind the front leg. Either Merida was a remarkably gifted archer, or very, very lucky.

Emma crouched by the wounded beast, and looked up at Killian helplessly. He shrugged sadly, not knowing what to do.

"Ye need to stop the bleeding."

They all whirled. Merida stood behind them, watching the scene before her with resignation. Killian and Arthur both drew their swords, reflexively. She raised her hands, kicking something toward them on the ground. It was her bow and quiver.

"Get away from him!" yelled Hic, straining furiously to stand.

"I believe..." she took a shaky breath before continuing in a stronger voice. "I believe I have wronged ye. I've come to make amends, if you'll allow me."

No one responded for a long moment. All that could be heard was the breeze through the trees and the increasingly ragged breathing of Toothless, who was bleeding out before their eyes.

"Can you help?" barked Emma, pointing at the dragon.

"Aye, if you can get the beast to my castle, I will try." Her voice was softer but firm. Killian thought he detected the slightest waver in it, however. He studied her furtively. Her lip seemed to tremble ever so slightly as she waited for their response. She might act tough, this archer, but he suspected she might be trying very hard not to cry right now.

"No! You stay away from him, you...you...murderer!" Hic was ignoring Elsa's pleas to stay lying down and was forcing his way clumsily to his feet.

Merida's eyes blazed. She put her hands on her hips in a way that Killian found all too familiar. Emma gave him the same look when he was about to get his arse handed to him.

"Do you want to let him die, then, you bloody stubborn clot-heid?!"

Hic sputtered in fury and lunged toward her. Killian got between them. It seemed he was doing a great deal of mediation for this woman today, and he didn't like it one bit.

"How far is this castle?" he said to Merida, straining for diplomacy.

"Just over that far rise there," she said, pointing to the horizon. "About a league to the west."

"Elsa? Emma?" he said, looking at them both for ideas.

"I can move him, I think. But he's losing a lot of b-blood," said Elsa, stuttering as she held back tears. Arthur limped to her side and put an arm around her shoulders.

"I think I can help with that," said Emma. She hesitated just a moment before grasping the shaft of the arrow firmly with both hands. Toothless groaned lightly at her touch. She let go with one hand for a brief moment to rub his side in the same comforting way she soothed their daughter when she was sick. He felt his heart constrict with love and gratitude, in the way that happens when death brushes up against ones life unexpectedly.

"Shhhhh," she whispered, soothingly. "You're going to be all right, Toothy."

She grabbed the arrow again.

"Don't pull it out!" snapped Merida. "He'll bleed far worse!"

Emma gave her such a ferocious glare he was surprised the girl's hair didn't go up in true flames. Merida took a small involuntary step backward.

The arrow glowed red in her hands. Emma was muttering under her breath, whether incantations or just well-chosen swear words, Killian couldn't say. The shaft grew brighter and brighter red, then purple. He could actually feel the heat coming off it from a dozen paces. The dragon groaned again. The sound of sizzling flesh could be heard for a moment, along with the scent of scorched hide. The shaft glowed white hot. Emma let go, and the arrow darkened and turned to ash before their eyes, blowing away in the breeze. The wound, however, was not bleeding any further.

"That's all I can do for now," she said, patting the dragon's heaving side as she stood.

Merida was staring at her, mouth agape. He thought she mouthed the word magic, soundlessly, before she shook her head and snapped herself out of her bemusement.

"Come on, then. Let's get to the castle before night falls. The bears will more than like scent the blood. Or the wolves," she added, with a shudder.

Elsa nodded and took a shaky breath as she stepped toward Toothless. She laid a hand on his back. "I'll try to make this as comfortable as I can, darling," she murmured softly.

Brow furrowed in concentration, she gestured over the dragon's prone body, weaving complex shapes with her hands. A white cocoon rose from the ground, carrying him with it and molding itself to his shape. It rose higher, several feet from the ground, and blade-sharp runners formed beneath it, transforming the impromptu bed into a dragon-sized sled. With a sweep of her hand, a slick of snow appeared beneath it and rushed toward the horizon in a heavy whoosh. A series of figures formed in front of the sled, rising from the icy track like mist from a lake. In moments, a dog team was waiting in front of the sled, icy tails wagging expectantly. Elsa stepped forward to a platform which had emerged at the back of the sled and they all rushed to join her. They piled Hic and Arthur onto the cot along with Toothless. Merida alone held back, eyeing the sled with an apprehensive eye. Killian was about to snap at her to hurry up, when he saw her square her shoulders. She picked up her bow and quiver with queenly dignity and stepped up to the platform without a word.

Killian grasped the icy railing as the sled pulled away in a smooth and rapid rush. His eyes teared at the crush of wind against his face. Moriah buried her face in her mother's coat. They practically flew the league to the castle, gliding over the bridge and beneath the portcullis in hardly any time at all. They came to a graceful stop in the courtyard. He stepped down from the platform with a grateful sigh. No matter how much he saw of it, or how many wondrous things his own wife or daughter could conjure with it, magic never sat easily with him.

Merida put on a brave face as she stepped down as well, but he saw her surreptitiously close her eyes and exhale a relieved breath as she landed.

"The great hall is just this way," she said, marching toward a massive set of wood doors. They made to follow, the sled team pulling their injured cargo gently behind.

The great hall was pitch dark. The echo of Merida's footsteps ahead of them was the only indicator of direction. Eventually her steps ended and the sound of flint striking stone was followed by a warm glow. The large fireplace lit with a comforting crackle and the cavernous room suddenly seemed warm and welcoming.

Emma nudged him and he took Moriah from her arms. The girl was wide-eyed but no longer crying. She looked around in curiosity, taking in the exotic surroundings. The hall had a variety of stuffed hunting trophies, most notably an enormous bear. A trio of wooden thrones stood on a raised dais at the far end. Merida was looking sadly at these, her gaze troubled and distant. 'Princess of Dunbroch' she had called herself. He pictured a king and queen seated in two of the thrones. From whom did she inherit that flaming hair of hers? Sympathy for the lass struck him like a blow to the chest. She might have shot Toothless, who he'd come to regard as one of his family, but clearly she was in the same desperate situation they were. Almost five years spent alone was enough to do damage to even the strongest. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever force in the universe had allowed him to keep Emma and Moriah by his side through this madness.

* * *

Merida had taken brisk command of the situation, bidding Elsa to deposit the injured dragon in front of the fire so she might have the light to work by. The sled dogs pulled Toothless' barge to the hearth and returned to the courtyard, where they melted into the cobblestones. Emma and Elsa took charge of Hic and Arthur, getting them to lie down on the spacious rug as well to have their injuries tended. Hic was protesting vigorously, but Emma was ignoring him. She removed his false leg, which was now in definite need of repair, and stripped off his breeks with absolutely no regard for the young man's modesty. Fortunately, Hic was far more focused on his friend than on himself. He was positioned near the dragon's head and was rubbing the insensible creature behind an ear, murmuring softly. Killian turned away, unable to bear the terror and pain in the lad's eyes. Toothless was still breathing irregularly, but he was still breathing at least.

Merida returned from upstairs, a large basket in hand. Kneeling by the dragon's side, she ignored Hic's suspicious glare and inspected the wound by the light of the fire.

"No' bad," she said, a touch of awe in her voice. "The, er, heat," she said, with a wary look at Emma, "has seared most of the wound verra well. No much left to do aside from clean it well and stitch it closed."

She reached into the basket and pulled out a stoneware bottle.

"What's that?" asked Hic, the barely contained anger simmering in his voice. Emma laid a restraining hand against his chest.

"This," she said thickly, pulling on the cork with her teeth, "is one of my da's finest reserves." The cork gave in to her assault with a faint pop. The scent of a very fine distillation of whiskey wafted strongly from the bottle. Killian's knees went weak and his mouth watered. It wasn't rum, but after a day like today, it'd do just fine. She pulled forth a small wineskin and filled it carefully with some of the alcohol. Placing the neck of the swollen skin against the wound, she pressed gently and expelled the liquid, flushing it out. Toothless shifted slightly but otherwise made no move. He must be in bad shape indeed, thought Killian, if an application of whiskey to his insides didn't rouse him.

"He's lost a great lot of blood. I'll hunt in the morning. He'll be needing rashers of red meat daily to build his strength back," said Merida, frowning. Sitting back on her heels, she raised the stoneware jug to her nose and inhaled deeply before lifting it to her lips. She took a healthy swallow and held it in her mouth a heartbeat before swallowing. Her eyes were closed tight. He saw a tear trace a damp path down her pale cheek, but not, he suspected, from the strength of the alcohol. More like from the strength of a memory, if he was any judge of people.

"A dram wouldn't go amiss, that's for certain," he said, breaking the silence as he reached for the jug. Hic was watching Merida with a look of intense dislike, but it was tinged also with curiosity now. Merida opened those brilliant blue eyes of hers and passed Killian the bottle. She reached into the basket and pulled out what looked like a sewing kit.

"Catgut," she said, responding to Hic's unspoken question as she threaded a curved needle. She took a deep breath and then bent to her task. The internal stitches to the muscle went relatively smoothly. Killian jerked his gaze away and focused instead on nursing the excellent jug of whiskey settled on his lap. Emma had finished wrapping Hic's swollen knee, had splinted his arm and fingers, and had curled up on the far side of the fire with Moriah in her lap. Both of them were sleeping soundly, but only one of them had a thumb in her mouth. Killian sighed contentedly and took another swig.

"Damn," whispered Merida.

"What is it?" asked Hic, immediately panicking.

"His hide, or scales or whatever you call it...it's too thick for the needle to penetrate."

"Yes, of course it is," snapped Hic, flexing his broken fingers with a wince. Normally, he'd doctor his own dragon. But with a broken arm and hand, he was forced to rely on the very woman who'd shot them out of the sky. "He's a dragon, not a puppy."

Merida flashed him a look, but bit her tongue. "And how do you mend a dragon's skin, then?"

"You see the tiny joints between scales? It'll take more time and more catgut, but you can stitch a sort of web pattern between scales. See?"

"Oh, aye! I see now," said Merida, bending to the task with her lower lip prisoned between her teeth in concentration. The wound was coming together neatly as she deftly positioned sutures to span the glossy black scales. Hic was watching her with a strange expression on his face. Anger and disgust were warring openly with exhaustion and curiosity, and none of them winning.

"Get some sleep, mate," said Killian, passing the bottle to Hic. The lad took a large swig, coming up spluttering and coughing. Merida smothered a smile, clearly not wanting to offend him further by laughing.

"Aye," he said, giving in to pain and weariness and settling in to sleep curled against his dragon's side.

* * *

Killian woke uneasily. It took him a moment to remember where he was. The great hall of the castle of Dunbroch was still dimly illuminated by the dying fire. His compatriots were scattered about the room, curled in blankets. Emma snored softly beside him, the tiny furnace that was their daughter pressed between them. The scent of woodsmoke and whiskey permeated the air, not unpleasantly, but Hook found himself longing for the clean salty air of the sea. He wondered for the hundredth time whether the Jolly Roger was safe where they had docked her.

Movement near the fire caught his eye. Merida was creeping toward the sleeping form of Toothless. He tensed, but saw she was merely checking the dressing on his wound. He could see dark circles under her eyes. The lass apparently hadn't slept and it must be nearly dawn.

She finished checking the wound and then sat back, gently running her hand over the dragon's hide. Her gaze darted to Hic, but he appeared to be sleeping soundly. Killian knew what she felt brushing those scales. Toothless was surprisingly warm and soft to the touch, not at all cold or hard as you might expect. He was gratified to see the dragon's breathing had improved. Merida crawled forward to his great smooth head, tracing the outline of his lids and nostrils with her fingers. Kneeling in front of him, she slowly lowered her head until she touched his with her own.

"Forgive me. I'm so, so sorry."

Her whisper was barely audible, sounding slightly choked.

"Are you?" Hic's whisper was no louder than hers. She stiffened and then relaxed, still leaning against Toothless.

"Aye," she said as she straightened. "I know ye'll no forgive me, but I am. I've done ye both a grievous wrong and I must do what I can to mend it."

She'd begun this speech with eyes downcast, but ended it with her gaze evenly locked on his. She was penitent, but not begging. Even asking for forgiveness, she radiated a simple dignity.

Hic cleared his throat, discomfited. "How did you come to be such an expert at dressing wounds?"

"Oh, that. Well, my da was - is - a warrior and leader of clans. What with all the battles, to say nothing of the bear hunting, there was usually a bit of patching up to do on a regular basis. Matter of fact, he was missing the same bit o' leg you are. My mum taught me to stitch a fair hand in both skin and wool. Truth be told, though, I always preferred stitching up wounds to embroidering tapestries."

Merida was smiling sadly, watching the memories playing out behind her eyelids.

"So your father was a chieftain? Mine as well."

"Oh, aye?" said Merida, eyeing him with interest.

"Aye, before...before he died, that is. I'm...well, I would be chieftain, now, if there was still anyone in my village."

Merida drew a sharp breath. "Your people...they've gone?"

"Aye, all of us had the same thing happen. Nearly five years now, we've been searching for answers. You as well?"

Merida nodded. "I escaped the castle one morning, trying to find a bit of time to meself. My brothers, the wee devils, they had turned the pigs loose inside the castle. It was total chaos. Perfect opportunity to get out for a bit. I had gone up to the highlands to do a bit of hunting. When I came down for lunch, Angus and I were the only souls left in Dunbroch."

"Angus?"

A shadow crossed her face. She raised a hand to Toothless' broad nose and rested it there.

"Aye. Angus...my horse. When we came down from the highlands, it was just he and I."

Hic seemed to hear something in her voice. He asked, hesitantly, "What happened to Angus?"

Her mouth set in a tight line. "Wolves. Last winter."

They sat in silence, listening to the crackling of the fire behind them.

"Was it...quick?"

"No. They set upon us at dusk. It was my own bloody fault. I'd spied a buck earlier in the day and I was too damned stubborn, and hungry, to give up tracking it and go home before dark. We were within a league of the castle when I first heard them howling. Angus took off at a gallop. He was fast, that Angus. What a strong, bonny horse he was. So brave. When the first one took us, and scratched bloody weals down his flank, he didn't throw me or panic. He kicked out and caught the bastard right in the head. We put up a good fight, Angus and I. When the sun came up, there were six wolves lying dead around us."

"And Angus?" asked Hic softly.

"He didn't make it easy for them. I...I put an arrow in his heart, at the end."

Hic's unbroken hand slid up and covered hers where it rested against the dragon's head.

"I've never told anyone that," she mused. "But well, who was there to tell?"

"I'm sorry, Merida."

"Hic - the reason I...shot at Toothless..." her voice was barely a whisper. "That morning after the wolves, I was in a bad way. Too injured to move. The vultures..."

Hic gripped her hand tightly, horror dawning on his face.

"Great huge flapping horrid things. I'd pass out in fever dreams and awake to see them perched on Angus...on the wolves...on me. I'd strike them with my bow, or my hunting knife, after I'd used the last of my arrows, but they always came back. When I saw the shadow pass over us today, of a huge flying...I thought..."

Hic reached for her, his callused fingers brushing the tear from her cheek.

"I forgive you, Merida."


	8. Triage

Emma woke to the crackle of the fire and the delicious aroma of coffee brewing. Her arm was numb where her daughter had slept on it all night. Tucking the blanket around the little girl, she rose quietly, rubbing her arm to restore feeling. She smiled and placed a soft kiss on her daughter's porcelain forehead. Asleep, Moriah resembled Killian strongly. Thick, dark hair lay in waves around her pale, delicate features. Her heart-shaped face was definitely Emma's - and Snow's - but she had the look of her father about the mouth and definitely the eyes, except for their remarkable shade of dark blue. They were a deep indigo color, nearly violet by candlelight and brilliant sapphire in the sunshine. A legacy of Emma's fusion with Yemaja, perhaps.

Emma pulled her gaze reluctantly away from Moriah and made her way to the fire, sniffing hopefully toward the coffee urn bubbling over the flames. First, a trip to the privy was in order. She made her way cautiously through the dim light to the room located off the hall for the purpose. After camping in the woods, the primitive facilities in the castle seemed positively luxurious. Maybe she would ask Merida if a bath was at all possible. She groaned, stretching her sore muscles. Maybe they could also find a bed for tonight rather than sleeping on the stone floor of the great hall.

Making her way back to the fire, she paused at Toothy's side and placed a hand gently against the hide. The soft scales felt very warm, even more so than usual. She frowned. Did dragons get fevers? She leaned down to gently peel back the bandage over the arrow wound and the frown deepened. It had stopped bleeding, but the edges of the wound were red and inflamed. An infection? Hic was asleep, curled against the dragon's side. His breathing was shallow and he moaned fitfully. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. Poor kid. Emma crouched and smoothed his hair back, feeling for fever. A momentary rush of pain and longing struck her like a blow as she remembered doing the same for Henry countless times. Blinking back tears, she held her wrist against Hic's forehead. Also hot. Both man and beast were fighting infection in the wake of their injuries. They wouldn't be moving them for a while, it seemed.

"How is he, love?"

She wiped her eyes before rising and turned to her husband.

"Not great," she murmured. "Fevers, both of them."

Killian looked down at Hic with concern. "What can we do for the boy?"

"Not much. Get them to eat and drink, keep an eye on the wounds. We don't have any drugs, so all we can do is give them time to rest and heal."

Emma shrugged helplessly and reached for a mug, pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee. She sighed with pleasure as the hot liquid warmed her throat. Ambrosia. She opened one eye at Killian's chuckle. He was looking at her with amusement.

"Simple pleasures, Killian," she said, gesturing with the cup.

"Aye, though I can think of a few simple pleasures it's been all too long since we enjoyed, love," he replied with a sinful smile, stepping closer to her and sliding an arm around her waist. She curled her body against his, nestling her face against his neck, inhaling deeply. He smelled of wood smoke and leather and grass and sea salt and that wonderful maleness that was so purely him. The point of his hook traced a delicate pattern down her spine, and she shivered.

She cast a glance around the hall. Elsa was curled under what appeared to be Arthur's cloak, golden hair spilling across the blankets, the latter sprawled adjacent to her at a respectful distance. It looked as though he'd fallen asleep with one hand stretched protectively toward her. Emma smiled. She'd definitely noticed the furtive looks and blushes those two had been trading the past few weeks.

Moriah was still deeply asleep and probably would be for some time yet. The crack beneath the wood doors was only barely beginning to lighten, indicating the imminent arrival of dawn. She looked over to where Merida had slept the night before. Her blanket was folded neatly at the hearth. Emma supposed it must have been she that rose early and put on the coffee. Killian sensed the question and answered it.

"I think the lass went out before dawn with her bow, hopefully to hunt."

"Too bad, I was thinking of asking her if there was a bathtub hiding around here somewhere."

Killian chuckled. He released her and plucked a lantern off its hook in the wall, raising a charmingly wicked brow at her as he turned to the stairs. He held the lantern toward her, awaiting her answer. She licked her lips and lit the lantern with a devilish smile of her own, and they ascended the stairs together.

The stone corridors flickered into dim life as they passed quietly through them. Heavy woven tapestries covered the walls and floors, everything muffled in a layer of dust. Emma could imagine how comfortable the place must've been at one time, bustling with people. Merida...she couldn't help but feel sorry for her, despite the unfortunate events of yesterday. She'd shot Toothless and damn near killed several of their friends, but Emma could sense there was no malice in the girl. Five years alone in this place would mess with anyone's head. She shivered, imagining not for the first time what it would've been like if she'd been left in Storybrooke totally alone, without Killian or Moriah.

Killian felt her shudder, and pulled her against him. "Cold, love?"

She shook her head. "Just thinking about Merida being here alone all these years. And all the others. We were lucky, weren't we?"

His lips thinned to a grim line as he shared a look of understanding with her. "Aye, that we were."

They tried several doors before finding a cozy bedroom with a large copper tub situated in front of the fireplace. Emma summoned fire to hand and lit the logs piled within. She looked around, frowning. No plumbing. Killian was grinning at her.

"You could help, instead of laughing at me."

"I'm sure you'll think of something, Swan."

She glared at him and crossed to the narrow window. The sun was just rising over the treetops, highlighting the tranquil waters of the moat below with stripes of soft pink and gold.

"Ha! Got it!" With a snap of her fingers, a ribbon of clear sparkling water snaked upward from the moat that ringed the castle. It rose like a glass corkscrew throughout the air, shedding glittering drops of water in the morning light. Killian stepped back with a startled oath when it sluiced through the open window and made its way to the tub. The enormous vessel was full in moments. Emma flashed him a triumphant grin, letting the stream retreat back through the window as she shrugged out of her leather jacket and dropped it to the floor. Turning, she bent over the tub and plunged her hands into the tepid water. A few seconds concentration and the water was hot and steaming enticingly. God, it had been forever since she'd had a real bath. Much less one with Killian. Alone. Saying a prayer under her breath that Moriah stayed asleep for another hour, she was about to stand when she felt move behind her and pressed himself firmly against her backside. With a sharp intake of breath, she froze and gripped the side of the tub.

"Emma, love...it's been far too long," whispered Killian. A firm hand tugged impatiently at the front of her jeans, undoing them deftly before making their way beneath the flimsy barrier of her panties. He nudged her legs apart roughly with a knee, and she found herself responding to him without conscious thought, spreading her thighs and curving her ass toward him, desperate for contact. Emma's head swam with pleasure as his skilled fingers slid into her folds, stroking her with slow, deliberate pressure. She moaned aloud as he found her slickness and circled her most sensitive spot with a merciless finger.

"Do you want me, Emma?" he said, teasing her by pulling it away and making her hips jerk with longing toward the missing sensation. She moaned in response, gripping the rolled edge of the copper tub. The hard length of him lay against her like a sweet, heavy promise and she swung her hips in answer.

"Shall I take you from behind? Ravish you until you scream for mercy?" he said, his voice a breathy growl.

"Killian, just...oh god, yes..."

Her blood was rushing in her ears, all attention focused to the bright point at the apex of her thighs, where Killian continued to expertly urge her to oblivion. She became aware that he was attempting to tug her pants down with his hook, and brought her legs tighter together, reaching down to assist him before the jeans, or the panties, ended up in a shredded pile on the floor. They came down as far as her knees when he entered her in a hard, sudden stroke that took her breath away. The sensation of being filled overwhelmed her synapses, lust sweeping over her skin like waves of hot oil. Arching her back, she fought against the confines of the denim, trying to spread her legs as far as she could to deepen the connection between them. His fingers kept their maddening pressure on her, slipping and flicking over her with alternating firm swipes and feathery touches. She gripped the tub tighter, trying to maintain her balance against the onslaught. Killian tugged her hip tightly to him with the curve of his hook as he pounded against her with increasing desperation.

"God, Emma!"

He buried himself in her deeply and relentlessly, his hardness slipping deliciously against her walls. She was holding herself rigid, accepting his thrusts with small, inarticulate moans as her core contracted in spasms of burgeoning sensation with each stroke. His fingers suddenly found the perfect rhythm to match his thrusts. Her pleasure wound tighter and tighter and then she was lost, spiraling and shattering and melting in his arms with a loud cry. Her vision exploded in a blaze of white light, as she flew apart and liquefied around him. Dimly aware of his hook digging into her hip, she felt him clutch her tightly one last, bone-shattering time before he shuddered, spilling himself into her, and was finally still.

They didn't speak after that. Helping each other out of their clothing, limbs jellied with satisfaction, they stood before each other naked in the rosy dawn light flooding in through the small windows. Killian was first to climb into the bath, settling in a stifled groan. Emma stepped in after, nestling between his thighs and leaning back against him with a deeply contented sigh. Her eyes rolled back in her head with pleasure as she raised the water temperature a few notches. Damn, it had been worth learning to do magic just for this little slice of heaven. They soaked in contented silence, the only sounds the chirping of birds outside in the early morning stillness and the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

Emma stretched languorously. Her wet hair was wrapped up in a linen sheet. She and Killian lay on the bed, having stripped it of the dusty coverings.

"I guess we'll need to stay here for a while, huh?"

Killian opened an eye and gave her a look which implied that she shouldn't be interrupting this rare idyll with chitchat. His naked back gleamed in the strengthening sunshine. Emma propped herself up on an elbow and stroked his skin lovingly.

"Aye, I suppose you're right."

"Moriah says this Merida was the last person to add to our...team."

Killian rolled over with a resigned sigh.

"Assuming the lass is right," he said, giving her a skeptical look, "then our little group is indeed complete. As for what comes next..."

He frowned as he trailed off. Emma lay her head against his chest, comforted by his steady breathing.

"Well, in any case, I guess we need to give the boys some time to heal."

"As long as we can take a bath like that every day, love, we'll stay as long as you like."

Emma chuckled and kissed his neck.

"Come on, let's get back downstairs before your daughter wakes up."

Moriah woke up with cranky complaints when Emma dug her out of her blankets, which in turn woke up the rest of the group. Arthur helped a groggy Elsa to her feet. Hic couldn't stand without help. He turned white as a sheet when Killian and Arthur pulled him up. They made their slow way outside to use nature's facilities while the ladies tidied up the great room. Emma put a hand to Toothy's forehead, which was disturbingly warm to the touch. The dragon looked up at her balefully, too listless to move. She felt him tense beneath her fingertips and turned to see Merida striding forcefully through the doors, red hair shining like a torch in the morning sunshine. She was dragging a large brown sac, which turned out to contain the butchered remains of a freshly killed deer. This she pulled the length of the hall, depositing it in front of Toothy with a contrite, and hopeful, look on her face. The dragon eyed her distrustfully, before turning up his nose at the offered breakfast and angling his head away from her in mute dismissal. Merida watched his rejection of her peace offering with obvious distress, cracking her knuckles nervously. The girl was clearly exhausted and emotional. She looked about wildly for help. Emma was shocked when it was Hic, of all people, who came to her rescue. Merida gave him a look of profound gratitude as he hopped awkwardly back into the hall on his good leg. He was putting on an obviously false hearty front as he made his slow way toward the prostrate dragon, supported by Killian and Arthur. He gestured with his good arm at the dragon's rejected breakfast.

"Hey buddy, come on, now. You need to eat."

Killian and Arthur set him down gingerly next to the dragon, who was resolutely ignoring his pleading.

"I know you don't feel great, buddy, but it'll help. You need to get your strength back. See, look how yummy...oh god..."

Killian jumped to the side, but not quickly enough. Hic, having gotten a good look, and sniff, of the fresh pile of meat, heaved violently all over his boots. Emma would've laughed at the exasperated look on Killian's face, if she hadn't been so concerned for Hic.

"Elsa!" she snapped, jumping into action. The ice queen had dark smudges under her eyes, but hurried over to help. "We're going to need lots of cold compresses for these two, they both have fevers. Killian - get us some clean sheets from upstairs and tear them into strips please. Merida, we'll need some large bowls. I'll take care of the water. Arthur, do you know how to fish? Good. I think I saw some in the moat, go and catch us some breakfast please. Yes, Moriah?"

The little girl was tugging urgently at Emma's sleeve.

"Mommy, I need to pee."

The little girl was, in fact, doing quite a pee-pee dance. "Okay, okay, the bathroom is over here sweetheart..."

At the end of a thoroughly exhausting day, Emma collapsed onto the bench and tucked into a dinner of venison, roasted fish, mushrooms, and berries. Merida and Arthur were capable hunters and gatherers, after years foraging for themselves in the wild. Elsa devoted her day to ministering to the injured, providing an endless supply of cold compresses.

They'd all picked out rooms in the castle above, shaking out years of dust and lighting fires in the long-cold hearths. Emma was actually delighted at the prospect of spending a night in a proper feather bed with her husband, with her little girl asleep in her very own room next door. After years on a ship, it seemed positively luxurious. She surveyed her companions surreptitiously as they ate. Killian was helping Moriah with her dinner, who was sitting on his lap. The little girl was on the verge of falling asleep right at the table, as was Killian for that matter. Elsa had coaxed some broth down her patients' throats, and had relented to Arthur's pleas to sit down and eat something herself. He was spooning more berries onto her plate, Emma noticed with a smile. Merida was picking morosely at her food, casting worried looks toward the fire, where Hic and Toothless lay dozing. Emma finished her plate and slid down to her, wishing she had a mug of hot cocoa to put in her hands.

"They'll be all right, Merida."

The girl gave her a doubtful, but grateful, look. Emma squeezed her hand briefly, before rising and picking up a drooping Moriah. Killian was watching her with a faint smile.

"We should all get some sleep. It's been a really long day."

"I'll stay down here tonight," said Merida, nodding at the sleeping forms by the fire.

Emma could see the girl was exhausted, but saw the stubborn look in her eye and decided against arguing. Yawning widely, she simply nodded and turned to head upstairs, Killian and the others trailing in her wake. As it transpired, Moriah was not as enthused about sleeping in her own room in a strange castle as she had been earlier in the day. The three of them ended up snuggled in the soft down of a large bed, falling asleep to the soothing chorus of the breeze rustling the trees, the chirping of a multitude of crickets, and the soft crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.


	9. Packing

Killian swung the cutlass down with all his strength, grimacing with effort as it slid the length of Arthur's blade. The king's face shone with sweat as he blocked the blow, arms shaking noticeably with the effort. With a sudden burst of strength, he shoved off from the ground where he'd been forced to take a knee. Stumbling back with a curse, Killian found his balance and just barely stopped the flight of Excalibur at his neck.

"Moriah, supper time!"

Arthur was distracted by Emma's shout from the castle behind them for the barest of moments, but Killian didn't waste the advantage. Arthur was too good, otherwise. With a whirl, he knocked the sword away with his hook, punched Arthur's kidney with the butt of his cutlass, and brought his elbow down on the man's shoulders when he bent double with pain. Back to his knees again, Arthur gasped up at him with a hand outstretched for mercy.

"I yield, damn you," he wheezed.

"Good form, mate. It was a close one this time," said Killian, trying, and failing, to disguise how winded he was. He slid the cutlass back into his belt with an arm that felt like pudding. The lad was not only bloody good with that sword, he had at least a decade's advantage of youth on him to boot. Arthur smiled weakly and took his proffered hand, climbing to his feet with a groan.

"I'll beat you one of these days, Hook," panted the king, looking even younger than usual as he tried to pull himself together. Sunlight glinted from his red-gold hair as he leaned down with his hands on his knees.

"I don't doubt that. As it is, I'd fight back-to-back with you any day, and consider myself lucky you're on my side," muttered Killian. Arthur grinned delightedly, looking as though someone had just lit a candle inside him. Killian shrugged uncomfortably. He wasn't happy about it, but Arthur and Hic had apparently come to regard him as something like their commander. Him, a bloody pirate! And here he had a king and a clan chieftain looking to him for direction. He'd talked with Emma about it, expecting her to sympathize with his exasperation. She'd just smiled a mysterious smile and told him that if the boys needed someone to look up to, they could do worse than him. He'd snorted and reminded her that as he was the only other man currently in their plane of existence, that wasn't saying much. He saw her grin and hadn't been able to help pointing out that Merida and Elsa both seemed to jump when she said 'frog' these last few months. That had set her to scowling back at him. Sometimes he thought even after all these years of marriage that he didn't understand women at all!

The three ladies had indeed becoming inseparable during their time in Dunbroch. Four ladies, he supposed, if little Moriah counted. She was glued to Merida's side most of the time. The flame-haired girl had dug up a tiny bow and quiver somewhere and had begun teaching her to shoot. Killian shook his head with dismay. His little girl was getting quite an education in weapons and fighting. Not exactly what he had hoped for her, but then he knew better than most how dangerous the realms could be. Best she learn how to defend herself. He sighed resignedly. At least archery was safer than the magic lessons she got from Emma and Elsa. The table in the great hall still had the huge scorch mark straight up the middle from the last one. Killian patted his eyebrows gratefully. It had been a near thing.

"Are you coming?"

Arthur had finally straightened, mostly, and Killian was amused to see he was limping slightly as he made his way toward the castle. Killian might be older, but at least he could still keep up in a fight.

"Aye, right behind you."

He saw a shadow sweep across the ground and looked up, shading his eyes. The glossy black shape of Toothless soared over them, looping in gracefully to land just in front of the stone bridge leading to the castle doors. Killian wasn't surprised to see two riders dismount, one of them with hair streaming behind her like a red banner. He shared an amused look with Emma, who had come out to round up the troops for dinner. Moriah was perched on her hip. When the dragon settled to the ground, she wiggled her way down and ran over to give him an enthusiastic hug.

Hic had gotten down first and reached up to offer Merida a hand. The girl was windblown and still grinning, eyes shining with excitement. She'd taken to flying like a duck to water, going up almost every day since the dragon had recovered enough to fly with riders. She ignored Hic's hand and jumped lightly to the ground as if she'd been riding dragons her whole life. Striding around to Toothless's great head, she rubbed him gently between the eyes and pulled something from her pouch. The dragon practically purred against her fingers and opened his mouth eagerly for whatever treat she had for him today. A chunk of dried fish perhaps? That was how she'd gotten the dragon to forgive her for shooting him in the first place. Well-placed bribes and flat-out babying not only got her the dragon's forgiveness, the beast was downright devoted to her. The dragon's pink tongue darted out and snagged the fish from her fast as lightning. She laughed and gave him another fond pat before swooping down to grab up Moriah. The little girl dodged and shrieked, darting to the side and running as fast as her little legs would carry her.

"Snap snap! The crab's going to get the wee fishie and snap her up!" laughed Merida, running after Moriah toward the castle with her hands shaped like pincers. She caught the shrieking little girl and deftly scooped her up, both of them giggling fit to burst as they made their way indoors.

Emma lifted Killian's leaden arm and lay it over her shoulders as they slowly followed across the stone bridge. They shared a contented smile. Watching their daughter play and bond with their expanded group here had been one of the few bright spots in the years since they had lost everyone. He glanced back to see Hic staring after Merida, a pained look on his face that Killian recognized all too well. It was a look he knew from personal experience, all those years ago when he burned for Emma and she kept him at arm's length. Sympathy made him sigh heavily as he tugged his wife closer to him. The lad would work it out with the girl eventually, if he had the tenacity to scale the walls. God knows it had been worth it in his own case. Kissing the top of Emma's head, he inhaled the sweet scent of lavender and honey and the underlying sunshine that was Emma Swan. He was a lucky man indeed.

The table was laid for dinner. Fish and venison and berries. The autumn was winding to a close and there was a distinct chill in the air. They had been setting aside food stores for some time now, preserving meats and making cheeses and other things that would keep on a journey. If they only knew what journey they would be going on, and when, they would all rest a lot easier.

Hic joined them. Toothy was presumably out hunting his own meal, since the dragon liked to hunt at dusk. Killian noticed the lad carefully avoiding Merida's gaze, sitting as far down the table from her as he could. Merida didn't notice, or at least pretended not to. They all settled around the big scorched table and dug in. Appetites were high these days. Hic and Arthur were long since recovered from their injuries and everyone had been engaging in preparations for their journey earnestly. Hours of weapons training each day, along with hunting and foraging and fletching arrows, left little time for rest.

Moriah had become more talkative about her dreams lately, at least to a point. She had been emphatic that they had to be able to all work together, as a team, if they were going to win the battle. The battle itself she was vague about, but when it came to strategy...Killian still couldn't believe it at times. Had Moriah not been so oddly specific about some things, they might have chalked it up to her imagination. One morning at breakfast not long after they came to Dunbroch, she had casually mentioned that Merida needed to get used to riding Toothless. Everyone had looked at her askance, given that the dragon refused to even acknowledge Merida's existence at that point. When Emma asked her why, she had responded calmly that in order to have the archer covering their flank effectively, she had to be airborne and stocked with a lot of arrows. It was such an odd, and adult, turn of phrase that the group of adults had just stared at her as she dug into her oatmeal, swinging her little legs beneath the table. Killian had asked her, not sure if he wanted to know the answer, where she'd heard that expression? She had rolled her sapphire eyes at him, in a very accurate impression of her mother, and said "You're going to say that, daddy. When we fight the monsters."

A chill ran down his back, remembering the matter of fact way his little girl made these pronouncements. They had followed her suggestions, though. Other than Moriah's dreams, they just didn't have anything else to go on.

"Let him beat you again, eh?" said Hic, grinning at Arthur. Arthur was rubbing his side where Killian had punched him and scowling across the table at Hic.

"As I recall, the last time you tried going up against Killian, you ended up in the moat," drawled Arthur. His voice was level, but two spots of color appeared on his cheeks. He was very pointedly looking anywhere but at Elsa.

Hic laughed, casting an amused glance at the blond queen down the table as he reached for more venison. "I never claimed to be a great swordsman. Just as well I'll be in the air then, isn't it?"

Hic was fair with a blade, true, but he wasn't the measure of Arthur or Killian and he knew it. His skills were best used in attacking with Toothless. The lad and his beast together were a formidable combination. Add the talents of Merida, who was bar none the best shot with an arrow he'd ever seen, and the dragon was death on wings.

"Elsa, will you help me with something in the kitchen please?"

Emma rose and headed for the kitchen, Elsa at her side. The two of them spent most of their time training together. God knows the rest of them were no match for their magic. There was an empty field a fair distance from the castle where they went to hurl magic around. The rest of the group avoided it unless summoned to participate, which they did occasionally to practice battle strategies as a team.

It was hard to say of the two women who was the more powerful. Elsa's abilities with ice were nothing short of astonishing. She could animate crude figures to do her bidding, build elaborate structures, or summon storms, or freeze and shatter an enemy at a distance. Emma, however, had a greater range, if less ability in any one area. She didn't have Elsa's skill or precision over a single element, but with daily training she had found she could create fireballs of shocking size and intensity, cause the earth to tumble and explode in tremors that furrowed the ground, and lift and throw items of great weight and size as though they were toys. Her control and capability had greatly exceeded anything he'd ever seen Regina do, and he suspected that even Rumplestiltskin would have difficulty matching some of the things she was managing lately.

They returned shortly from the errand that had pulled them into the kitchen, bearing a large platter between them. A white cake sat atop it, christened with autumn leaves and wildflowers and five glowing candles. Moriah jumped up on her chair and clapped her hands together.

"Is that for me, mommy?!"

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Moriah..."

The whole group was clapping and singing. Toothless had wandered in as they were finishing their dinner and was now sitting upright behind Hic's chair, eying the cake with clear avarice. They placed the platter on the table in front of Moriah, who was stamping her feet with happiness.

"Make a wish, darling," said Killian. His eyes were suspiciously damp. How could his baby be five years old?

Moriah leaned forward and blew for all she was worth, puffing out her little cheeks and snuffing out each candle in turn. When they were all out, the group clapped and cheered.

"I wanna do it again!" she yelled and made a quick gesture toward the cake with both hands. The candles re-lit with a great woosh, but instead of flame, they sparkled like tiny fireworks.

The group went silent, staring agog as Moriah blew the candles out one more time and giggled uproariously. Emma looked at Killian, her smile wavering slightly as she shook her head. Killian had hoped it had been her, but it hadn't. Moriah was getting stronger with each passing day it seemed, and they hadn't the slightest notion how to control it. Emma started cutting the cake, handing out pieces to everyone, including Toothless, who continued to eye the remainder and clearly awaited his chance to snag some more.

"Daddy, we have to go get the Jolly Roger now," said Moriah through a mouthful of cake.

"What do you mean, sweetheart?" he asked, smiling as he wiped a bit of frosting from her cheek.

"We have to go through the stones tomorrow so we have to get the ship now."

Everyone went quiet again. Elsa held a fork halfway to her mouth, cake suspended in astonishment. Arthur and Hic had been arguing yet again about who was a better hand with a slingshot, but hearing Moriah's pronouncement, fell into wary silence.

Emma cleared her throat before speaking. "What stones, honey?"

Before Moriah could respond, Merida stood up. She had looked as gobsmacked as any, but she recovered quickly. Smoothing her woolen skirts nervously, she seemed to be bracing herself to say something she didn't want to.

"I think I know the stones she means," she said, quietly. Her face had gone extremely pale, the freckles standing out more strongly than ever. From the way she swallowed nervously, Killian thought that maybe they should find out where these stones were and run as fast as they could the other direction.

0000000000000

Killian paced the deck nervously. His breath puffed little white clouds into the cold air. He wasn't happy about this, not one bit. The sounds of Emma rummaging around below deck reached him. He should've tossed that lot of junk from Gold's shop overboard long ago.

A be-mittened Moriah hung over the railing, looking down into the dark waters below the dock and humming to herself. Granted, his daughter did seem to have some knowledge about things to come. He could admit that. She'd certainly found Hic and Merida and the others and brought them all together. But this was the Jolly Roger! The knot in his stomach felt like a ball of ice.

Emma popped up through the hatch, the glass bottle gripped in one gloved hand. She gave him a sympathetic look, as if she knew what was running through his mind.

"This WILL work, Killian," she murmured. He thought he caught something else as she turned away, a faint "I hope."

"Lass, if you don't know what you're about then don't even think about touching my ship."

He was standing with his arms outstretched toward the rails as if he could protect the Jolly Roger bodily.

"Killian, you know we need to do this. If you'd rather just abandon the Jolly Roger here, though..."

She let the threat hang in the air. He ran his hand through his hair, mind whirling, trying to come up with some alternate idea.

"But you said yourself you hadn't managed this spell on anything bigger than a chair!"

"The principle is the same, no matter the size of the object, Killian. And once it's done, the bottle will protect the Jolly Roger."

Killian eyed the glass vessel warily. Something about it had caught Emma's eye in Gold's shop, so she'd stowed it aboard. At some point in the early days of the journey, thanks to a certain precocious toddler, they had noticed that the bottle didn't break when dropped. Emma had then tried to melt it. Killian had dropped it from thirty feet up in the rigging. They let Moriah bang it up and down on the deck. Not so much as a scratch.

"I suppose the bottle is more or less indestructible, Swan. It's the means of getting the Jolly Roger inside it that I find slightly less re-assuring."

Emma rolled her eyes at him as she swung down the ladder, Moriah following after her. "Come on, Hook. Unless you want to be the tiny captain of a miniature pirate ship."

He closed his eyes and blew out his breath in exasperation. "Bloody stubborn woman," he muttered as he clambered down after her.

He stood on the dock looking up at the ship that had been his family until he met Emma Swan. She was staring at him with a question in her eyes. She wouldn't do this without his permission. He loved her, and he loved his daughter. They were home now. He gave a jerky nod.

"I trust you, Savior," he whispered. The corner of her mouth quirked up and she gave him a wry look. He hadn't called her that in some time.

Emma turned her attention to the ship and began weaving her hands in a delicate pattern. Her frown of concentration turned into a grimace as whatever magic she was working deepened. Moriah was watching her mother with fascination. The air around the Jolly Roger began to shimmer the way the air sometimes did on a hot day when gazing out to sea. Killian gripped his hook with his other hand and twisted it nervously. He trusted her, but the Jolly Roger was a good deal larger than a dining chair.

Sweat was beading down her face despite the chill in the night air. Suddenly there was a tremor in the air and the ship...compressed. The wood and cloth and metal that made up the Jolly Roger seemed to turn to jelly and compact in on itself with a quiver. The jelly seemed to solidify again, and the ship snapped back into shape. It was about a third the size it normally was, but certainly not small enough to fit in a bottle. Killian looked over at Emma nervously. Her face was still contorted with effort. He heard her curse under her breath and hoped Moriah hadn't made out the words.

"Emma..."

"Don't distract me, dammit!"

"Does mommy need help?" whispered Moriah to Killian, wide-eyed.

"I don't know, darling," he whispered back.

The little girl frowned up at her mother for a moment, then turned to face the ship, mimicking her mother's stance. She held up her little hands toward it and suddenly her little fingers danced the same mysterious dance her mother's had. The air around the ship shivered again, accompanied by a deep vibrato tone like a gong being struck. Suddenly the timbers groaned as though the ship were being crushed by a giant vise and it gave way. The wood jellied once again and shrunk away, until it dropped out of sight completely.

Killian leaped to the side of the dock and looked down. In the star-spangled water, a couple feet below the creaking wood dock, floated a perfect, tiny Jolly Roger. Laughing in astonishment, he gently hoisted it from the water and stood, examining it wonderingly by the light of the full moon.

"Oh, well done Emma Swan!"

The relief in his voice was impossible to disguise. He turned to Emma, crushed her to him with one arm, and planted a kiss on her lips that he hoped curled her toes.

"I think you should thank your daughter, Killian. I don't think I would've quite gotten all the way there without the assist."

"You did that, darling?"

Moriah giggled shyly. "I helped."

"Beautiful and talented, like her mother!" he exclaimed, picking her up while trying not to drop his ship on the dock.

"Let's put it in the bottle before it gets broken, Killian."

"Capital idea. Uh...how, exactly?"

"Here, give me the ship. Daddy, you take the bottle," said Moriah, holding out her hands. Emma handed it over with a resigned shrug that indicated that at this point the kid was probably better at magic than she was.

Killian held the bottle up as Moriah instructed, laid flat with the opening uncorked and pointing at the ship. Moriah balanced the Jolly Roger delicately before her. With a happy smile, she puffed up her cheeks and blew softly at it. The ship drifted forward on the current of air, unsupported by her tiny hands, and floated right for the mouth of the bottle. The bottle seemed to catch at the ship, as though it were smoke being pulled through an open window. The tiny Jolly Roger flowed into the neck of the vessel and then re-formed inside it, balancing on air. It rocked back and forth slightly as though it were adrift on an invisible sea. Carefully, Killian replaced the cork and released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He kissed Moriah's soft forehead and shared a wondering glance with her mother.

000000000000

Back at the castle, everyone was astonished to hear about the shrinking of the Jolly Roger. They passed the bottle containing the ship among them as they sat before the fire. The hour was late but no one seemed to want to go to bed. There was a nervous tension in the air. Killian had found a small cask of very good quality whiskey in the cellar some time ago. He brought it out now and poured small mugs for each of the adults.

Hic was looking into the one of the sacks that Killian had brought from the Jolly Roger. He pulled out a heavy brass instrument the size of melon.

"What's this, Killian?"

"That," said Killian, taking a swig of the whiskey, "is a sextant."

"What's it for?"

"Navigating by the stars. Thought it might come in handy, even though we don't know where we're going."

Hic's eyes lit up. He twisted the dial eagerly, looking into the viewport. "Will you teach me to use it?"

"Aye, if you like," he said. A memory tugged the corners of his mouth into a small and he chuckled.

"What's so funny?" asked Hic.

"Nothing, mate. Just remembering trying to teach Henry how to use it, some time ago."

He winced, and hesitated to look over to Emma. She was smiling wistfully though.

"You never told me that," she said softly.

"I was trying to help him, after Neal..." he broke off uncertainly. He was just digging himself into a deeper hole here. He took a bigger gulp of whiskey and choked a bit, coming up coughing.

"He never mentioned that," said Emma. She smiled suddenly. "It doesn't seem like something he'd have much enthusiasm for. Not with a smartphone in his pocket."

Hook laughed. "Too right, Swan. He didn't take to my primitive forms of celestial navigation very well. Kept saying something about GPS."

Emma laughed at that. He was glad to see her smile at mention of Henry. It had been five years of heartbreak, being away from the boy.

"Who is Henry?" asked Merida, cautiously.

"He's my son," said Emma, a shadow crossing her face. "He's eighteen now, practically a man."

She stroked Moriah's hair gently. The girl lay curled up in her lap, sleeping deeply.

"I have three brothers," said Merida. She snorted softly. "Wee devils, more like. They'll be nine now. Harris, Hubert, and Hamish. Wonder if they're still getting up to tricks and driving everyone mad." She shook her head, the great mane of hair glowing in the firelight like a torch. "One afternoon, I was upstairs with mum when I heard a caterwauling fit to wake the dead. We thought the castle was under attack. I grabbed my bow and arrow, and we crept downstairs expecting to find invaders sacking the castle." She tossed her head back and laughed. "When we got to the kitchens, the maids and cooks were running like hens with a fox in the coop. The chief maid was laid out on the floor in a dead faint, with a snake-" she snickered "-a snake sticking out of h-her- c-cleavage-" snicker "-it seemed the wee rascals had somehow caught an adder, skinned it, stuffed it, and saved it for a special occasion. We found out later that they had climbed into the rafters and dropped it straight down into the-" snicker "-ample b-bosom of their archenemy-" she was laughing so hard she was crying by this point "-and then made their escape with the evening's dessert! Oh, poor Maudie! She never stood a chance!"

Everyone was laughing by this point. Hic was doubled over, clutching his sides.

"My sister," said Elsa, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, "was, er, is a bit of a prankster also. For better or worse, she never outgrew it either. One day she joined me in the palace for the public audience. We get all kinds of petitions from all corners of the kingdom during the audience. I should mention that she was due to give birth in a few weeks and wasn't feeling particularly patient in general. A case came before me in which two farmers were arguing the boundary of the land between them. These are the most difficult cases to judge to anyone's satisfaction," she continued, dryly. Elsa darted a glance to Arthur, who gave her a knowing smile. She sipped her whiskey primly and went on.

"These two elderly gentlemen had been arguing over the line between their properties for decades. They wanted me to say once and for all whose land ended where. Very stubborn, the pair of them, and it was obvious that no solution I offered would be acceptable. After listening to twenty minutes of bickering, suddenly Anna stands up and grabs her belly. She yells, 'Oh dear! It's the baby! I was so distressed hearing your tale, good sirs! I believe my labors have been brought on by hearing of this dreadful conflict!' You can't imagine the looks on those two old buzzard's faces! She stumbled forward and clutched their shoulders. Both of them looked ready to run. 'Promise me you will resolve this disagreement, I couldn't bear it otherwise!' The two turned to each other, one offered to split the disputed land down the middle and call it fair, if it would ease the poor princess's anguish, the other said 'done', they shook hands quick as can be, and then ran the length of the throne room, jostling to get out the door! I was trying so hard not to laugh that I was crying. I had to send the rest of the petitioners home, claiming that my sister's condition required my full attention. When the room cleared out, Anna and I laughed so hard, I thought I'd die."

The group was chuckling, none more than Arthur who was wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"I'd like to meet this sister of yours. I think she could come in handy during my public audience days," he laughed.

"Oh, she'd like you...er, I mean, I'm sure she could be persuaded to attend your court," said Elsa, cheeks glowing with embarrassment. She buried her nose in her mug and took an overlarge swig of whiskey, coming up choking and spluttering. Arthur flushed pink to his hairline, but looked pleased.

"I'd be much obliged. Merlin says I need to pay more attention to my duties, especially the boring ones like audiences."

"Merlin? Seriously?" said Emma, eyebrows climbing to her hair.

"You know of Merlin?" asked Arthur, eyeing her with curiosity.

"Yes, well...I knew you were King Arthur, of Camelot, but not...I mean..." she trailed off, growing flustered. "It's a well-known story, where I come from. I've just learned from experience that not all the stories I've heard are...accurate, is all."

"Trust me, mate. Where she comes from, the tales of Captain Hook do not accurately reflect reality," added Killian. Emma grinned at him over the rim of her mug. She mouthed the word "perm" at him and he scowled at her comically.

"Ah. I see. Do you know Merlin is a wizard, then? A magic-wielder, like yourself?" asked Arthur. He waited for Emma's nod before continuing.

"Merlin is a great stickler for responsibility. When I was sixteen, he taught me a lesson that was...memorable. I had snuck out of the castle, on a day I was supposed to hold public audiences. I'm not proud of it," he added, glancing at Elsa, "but I was an arrogant, hot-headed teenager. I came to the crown very young and the bonds of service to my people...chafed...occasionally. On this particular day, I decided I would prefer to hunt with some of my knights rather than do my duties. When I returned, sodden with wine and the kisses of tavern wenches, Merlin was waiting in my chambers. We had a rather loud argument, at the end of which he announced that if I didn't understand my responsibility to my people, then I didn't deserve to rule them. I called him an old fool and slammed the door in his face. Thinking that was the end of it, I went to bed. When I awoke in the morning, I knew something was amiss. I stumbled to the mirror, and yelled fit to wake the entire castle when I saw my reflection. He'd magicked me into a guise that defied description."

A visible shudder went through Arthur at the recollection. He tipped back his head and laughed. "I was two feet shorter, two feet wider, nearly bald, with a goiter and pockmarked skin. Short of leprosy, I doubt he could've made me uglier. I even smelled badly and my voice croaked like a bullfrog's! My yelling rousted the guards, who saw me and assumed I had done away with King Arthur. I attempted to escape out the window but was too fat to squeeze through," laughed Arthur. "I was still cursing Merlin and the day his father first kissed his mother when they hauled me down to the dungeons. Lacking proof of wrongdoing, and in all likelihood assuming it was some sort of joke by King Arthur to put an ugly little man in his bedchamber and have him proclaim himself to be his majesty, the magistrate ordered me released. I stumbled out into the city a pauper, and an uglier one I can't imagine."

Arthur paused to refill his mug, shaking his head ruefully at the memory. Elsa giggled hesitantly, clearly shocked that anyone would treat royalty so.

"Whatever did you do?" she asked, eyes wide.

"I hoped that Merlin would come to his senses and turn me back. I skulked about in a fury. Days and then weeks slid by with no sign of him. I begged food and water where I could, and haunted the poorer parts of the city where the king's guard wouldn't bother me. I found myself speaking with those I'd never had occasion to speak with, and sympathizing with the least fortunate among my people. Wearing the face of a man not blessed by much kindness forced me to remember how I was when I came to the throne, a penniless boy with no family. Fate raised me to the throne, and I had treated that gift with disdain. It shamed me to the bone. I walked to the nearest poorhouse and pledged myself in service to the downtrodden, intending to do penance. I remained there six months, doing whatever was asked of me and doing it humbly, in exchange for bread, water and a hayloft to sleep in. When Merlin came to fetch me finally, he asked if I was ready to do better by my people. I swore on Excalibur I would never miss another public audience, and I never did. That is, until there was no public any more," he finished with a sad smile.

Elsa was studying him, her head cocked at an angle. "This Merlin sounds a wise man."

"Indeed he is, my lady. If I learn a fifth of what he has to teach, I will consider myself an enlightened man. And what of you, chieftain? Have you a Merlin in your village to guide your steps?"

Hic started in surprise. "No, nothing like that. I only became chief a year or so before the disappearance. My father...he was my example, until he died. Everything I did as chief, I imagined what my father would've done in my place. He was a natural leader. A warrior. The people of Berk trusted him with their lives. It took a long time to believe that I could follow in his footsteps. Fortunately I had a good group of friends to help me. Snotlout and Fishlegs, Tuffnut and Ruffnut, and...Astrid."

"Snotlout? Fishlegs? And I thought Hiccup was a strange name," muttered Killian with a snort.

"Astrid?" asked Merida. Her voice sounded nonchalant but she watched Hic carefully out of the corner of her eye.

"Yeah...my girlfriend," said Hic. "Or at least she was, five years ago," he added quietly, frowning into the fire.

"I see. I think I'll turn in. It sounds like we have a long day ahead tomorrow. Good night."

Merida took a lantern and climbed the stairs at nearly a run. Killian wasn't sure but it seemed like she was doing her best not to stomp as she went. Hic hung his head and stared morosely into his cup. At the sound of a door slamming somewhere above, he looked up, a cloud of misery in his eyes.

"Tough luck, mate," murmured Killian to himself. "Those walls just got a bit higher."


	10. Flight

SM chapter 10

Merida flung open the door to her chambers and flounced through with a huff. She swung it closed with a satisfying slam before throwing herself face down on the bed.

"Damn your eyes Hiccup Haddock!" she muttered angrily.

Pounding her fists into the mattress, she squeezed her eyes against the tears that threatened to come.

"...and damn me for a soft-heided fool," she added softly as she rolled over and relaxed into the pillows. Her lower lip trembled. "I will NOT cry, I will NOT."

Getting up in a huff, she reached back to undo her laces and dropped the green homespun dress to the floor. A bit of moonlight came through the window, making her cotton shift glow a bright white. She shivered in the chill air. Used as she was to the damp chill of the castle in all seasons, she wasn't immune to cold entirely. Making her way to the fireplace in the near dark was no matter. Long habit guided her steps through a room she'd inhabited since childhood. Striking flint to tinder, she coaxed the flames to life and sat down on the hearth, tucking her knees up to her chin.

After years spent alone in Dunbroch, after Angus died, she'd begun muttering to herself to fill the silence. It was a habit her mother had had, and in an odd way it made her feel closer to her, when she sat whispering to herself in the quiet darkness. Almost like her mother was there, stroking her hair. It was a habit she was having a hard time breaking, even now that she had company in the castle.

"It's not like he ever said he was interested in you, you silly goose. Of course he has a girlfriend! Besides, you've just been so lonely all these years, you'd be attracted to any ugly brute who walked through the door! After not seeing a man for five years, anyone would seem like a gift! Bah. He's nothing special. It's not as if he were all that handsome, or brave, or kind, or..."

She trailed off, remembering the first time she'd seen him. There had been the rush of giant wings overhead. She'd nocked her arrow and let it fly without thinking, as she always did when she thought a vulture was near. Only it hadn't been one of the cursed carrion eaters at all. It had been a sleek, beautiful creature from a fairy tale. A dragon. And she'd struck it with her arrow. Even in an injured spiral, the beast had fallen with an elegant grace. She saw one rider, a blonde man, flung to the ground like a doll before the creature plummeted limply into the grass. She glimpsed another rider holding tight to its back, staying with it until they both landed with a sickening crunch.

Her heart had been in her throat as soon as she realized her error. The rider lay moaning, pinned beneath his dragon in a pool of spreading blood. She thought she would be sick. Approaching the group of strangers, she had fully expected to be killed for her crime against them, and thought that she couldn't really blame them. After nearly five years here by herself, going positively mad with loneliness, a group of travelers had arrived on her doorstep, and what did she do? Shot their dragon and injured two of them! Bloody fool! She had squared her shoulders and prepared to face up to the consequences, whatever they might be. But the travelers had surprised her, accepting her offer of help and taking up residence with her in the castle. The great hall that sat silent for so long was filled with people talking and even a child's laughter. It nearly broke her heart with longing for her own family, for her people. She'd given up on seeing them ever again, and steeled her heart against the misery.

That first night, with everyone sleeping in the great hall, she'd crept toward the dragon, wanting to touch it. Her desire was both to see that it still lived and to reassure herself that these visitors were, in fact, real. Hic had wakened as she approached, his body tensing with mistrust. His green eyes burned like emeralds, hot with reproach and anger, and she shrunk from his gaze. But she was the first born of Dunbroch. She had straightened her spine and met his anger head on, not only apologizing, but telling him far more than she had intended. Shocked to find herself talking about Angus, she nonetheless spilled her anguish to him as though leaching herself of a poison. Seeing him with the dragon, his regard for and devotion to the creature evident, had convinced her that he would understand about Angus. And he had. When he had forgiven her, she'd felt something icy that had built up inside her over the years give way and melt. The fear and uncertainty had disappeared for a moment, and she'd felt that she truly wasn't alone any longer.

It had taken considerably longer, and took a lot more effort, to get Toothy's forgiveness. With a wry smile, she remembered the countless bribes (all the smoked fish left in the cellar!) and belly rubs that had finally won him over. The first time they went flying had been one of the best days of her life.

_"Come on then, unless you're afraid," teased Hic, limping toward the harness secured across the dragon's back. _

_"Hmmmph!" she responded testily, striding past him and launching herself into the harness ahead of Hic. Toothless's head whipped around and he licked her face with a great messy slurp that made her giggle uproariously._

_"Yech! Leave off, ye great slimy beast!"_

_"Oh, I see how it is," said Hic, rolling his eyes and grinning as he always did when seeing the bond his dragon had developed with Merida. He pulled himself up awkwardly behind her, his arm and leg still stiff with injury. She helped him to buckle them both in, cinching the straps tight. Hic's arms came up around her, gripping the pommel of the harness in front of them. Abruptly she became very conscious of him pressed tightly against her back. Her cheeks flushed pink and she busied herself with straightening her skirts around her. They were divided for riding, which allowed her to avoid showing Hic a scandalous amount of leg as they rode. Suddenly she felt an irrational, wanton desire to do exactly that and suppressed it with a flash of panic. What would her mother say? Eleanor would no doubt start in with one of her lectures, along the lines of 'A lady does not ride about on dragons showing off her legs like a girl in a traveling show!'_

_Her cheeks flamed a deeper shade of red. She turned to Hic, intending to ask how far they could fly today, when the dragon suddenly launched into the air with a massive explosion of power. Her heart was in her throat, and not just from the sudden exhilaration of flight. The glimpse she'd caught of Hic's face had shown her he was blushing as scarlet as she. Ha! So she wasn't the only one affected by their sudden proximity._

_She pointed east. Hic nudged Toothless, and they were off at a startling rate of speed. Soaring and swooping, the dragon executed deft maneuvers that shocked her with their daring. Merida laughed and whooped with the freedom and the excitement, the wind flowing through her hair and tossing it about like a flaming banner. Their destination became apparent when the cliffs came into view. She tapped Hic's hand and pointed again, this time to the ledge halfway up the immense falls. _

_They had alighted on the small rock precipice. Toothless craned out his neck to catch some water from the roaring falls. Hic and Merida hopped down from his back and did the same, reaching out their hands to drink from the cold, clear rush. _

_Hic's eyes were bright with satisfaction as he gazed out at the spectacular view. It was possible to see for miles from this place, high up as they were. _

_"You knew this place was here?" he asked, a touch of awe in his voice._

_"Aye. It's called the Fire Falls. It's said that all the ancient chiefs climbed to this ledge to drink from the falls and prove their bravery," said Merida, breathless with excitement._

_"Seriously?" said Hic, his eyes going round as he peered over the edge. "You'd have to be crazy to climb this!"_

_"I suppose I'm crazy, then," said Merida, laughing as she climbed back into the harness. _

_"What?!" _

_Hic's mouth hung open as he goggled at her. _

_"You climbed this?"_

_"Aye, that I did. On my birthday the year I came of age," she said, grinning at his stunned expression. "It was much easier this time."_

_Shaking his head, Hic climbed up behind her and they cinched themselves back into place just in time. Toothless had looked back at them, tongue lolling mischievously, and Merida swore he winked - winked!- before diving face first off the cliff. Merida and Hic both shrieked with the sudden vertigo, as they plummeted toward the valley floor like a rock. _

_With a sharp snap of his wings extending, Toothless arrested their motion with a smooth, powerful glide that brought them flying low and level just above the forest. Merida shouted and laughed with glee, punching her fists up in the air with the joy of being alive. Hic chuckled behind her, and patted Toothy's side. She turned to him with a broad smile, and saw her expression echoed on his face. His green eyes sparkled with the same joy crackling through her veins. Leather creaking, they lofted back to the castle in high spirits, glowing with the camaraderie of two kindred souls that have, so improbably, found one another. _

They'd flown every day since, rain or shine, for training and, in Merida's case at least, for sheer pleasure unlike anything she'd ever felt before. They were an amazing team, right from the start. They worked out a series of hand signals they could employ during battle to synchronize their flying and shooting. Merida had found after much experimenting that she could shoot best from the saddle if she were seated behind Hic and facing away from him, which, if she were honest with herself, she didn't like nearly as well as sitting in front of him, held snugly in his arms.

"None of that matters now, anyway!" she hissed to herself, staring into the flames. "He's got a girlfriend. Quit mooning after the man, you silly flibbertigibbet! He's not interested in you, anyway."

Sniffling, she stayed sitting there with her arms wrapped around her legs as the logs burnt away to ashes and the cold of the stone castle seeped into her bones.


	11. Strife

Hic hunched over his mug, staring into the flames. He flinched at the distant slam over a door somewhere overhead. The rest of the party, except for Killian, clambered hastily to their feet and headed for bed. There were awkward 'good nights' exchanged as everyone broke apart. Grinding his teeth in frustration, he lifted the mug to take another sip of whiskey and frowned at finding it empty.

"Here, mate," said Killian, leaning over with the small cask. He poured another stout dram into Hic's mug before splashing a liberal amount into his own.

"Thanks," murmured Hic.

"You look like you could use it," responded Killian.

"Hah. Yeah, I guess I do."

Taking another swig, Hic raised his eyes hesitantly to meet Killian's. There was kindness in his expression, instead of the judgement Hic had feared. He was waiting patiently for Hic to continue. He merely raised an eyebrow and sipped at his own whiskey before pressing.

"You barely mentioned this Astrid, Hic, in all the time we've been with you."

Hic hesitated. This was going all wrong. He hadn't meant to bring up Astrid at all tonight! Glancing around to be sure everyone else had gone upstairs to bed, he took a deep breath before trying to explain.

"The first year we flew in all directions night and day, me and Toothless. Pushed ourselves to the breaking point, physically and mentally. It was horrible. Every waking minute was filled with panic, with dread. Wondering what had happened to everyone and imagining the worst. Were they all dead? Were they suffering? Was I going insane? Killian...if it weren't for Toothless, I don't know what..."

His voice trailed off, remembering the darkness of that time, the agony of his helplessness, the futility of their long searches across an empty land.

"Eventually, I calmed down. It took a lot of time, but I managed to make a sort of peace with things. I made up stories explaining what had happened, always trying to believe that my people...and Astrid especially...were in a better place. That they were fine, and happy, and that they didn't need me anymore. I...I let them go, you see?"

He hazarded a glance at Killian, who nodded at him sympathetically.

"When you all showed up on Berk, I'd gotten used to the idea of never seeing them again. But you gave me hope. Thin hope, but I started to wonder again what had happened to everyone, and to think that maybe, just maybe I could see them all again."

Hic paused, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the still castle.

"When Moriah said that this isn't the real world, that our world still exists as it did...I was so relieved, Killian. It was a dream come true for me, that they could all still be alive. And if they all thought I was dead, five years ago, then they would've grieved and moved on. Astrid...I hope she fell in love again, married someone..."

Killian briefly clasped Hic's shoulder in a gesture of understanding.

"I hope you're right, lad."

"So you see, I let them go. Let Astrid go. I want more than anything in the world that she moved on with her life. But, Killian, if she didn't...if somehow she's still waiting for me..."

"Ah, I see," said Killian. He was looking upstairs to where Merida had stomped off earlier.

"Yeah. I can't...move on...if there's a chance that I would be betraying Astrid. Until I know how things stand, it wouldn't be right for me to..."

Hic blushed and buried his face in his mug again. He saw Killian's mischievous smile from the corner of his eye.

"Does Merida know how you feel about her, lad?"

Hic's head came up sharply, and he stared at Killian in alarm.

"It's that obvious?" he whispered, sounding strangled.

Killian chuckled as he climbed to his feet.

"You're a good man, Hic. And I respect your decision. But I don't envy you the path you have to walk now. That lass has a hell of a temper! Lucky for you, we should know sooner than later how things stand back home. Get some rest, mate. Tomorrow will be a big day."

Hic stayed staring into the flames. The dancing orange and red flickers became flowing curls which brushed against his face as they flew, thick with the scent of honey and pine. Merida had felt so right in his arms, wedged in the harness in front of him during that first ride together. He'd blushed at first, cheeks heating with embarrassment at the pleasure of contact and the remarkable feeling of her backside nestled snugly between his thighs. He'd noticed that she was blushing also, her beautiful heart-shaped face flushing a delicate pink. The smattering of freckles across her cheeks were like an invitation to kisses, which he resisted with difficulty. He'd never wanted it to end. As they flew, she had turned to him with her joyous grin, her blue eyes sparkling the color of a summer sky, and he'd been lost completely. It had been one of the best days of his life.

He didn't sleep for a long time, gazing into the dying fire. He knew he had no right to think of Merida, especially not in the way that he wanted to. He should be thinking about Astrid, though he acknowledged to himself that he probably had no right to think about her anymore either. But he couldn't help the drift of his mind. His thoughts, as they had for months now, always strayed to that flame-haired, hot-tempered, gorgeous woman sleeping upstairs. Sleep finally claimed him as he struggled against the inevitable direction of his dreams. The last image in his mind's eye was the view from the fire falls, and the sensation of Merida's body, strong and lithe and soft in all the right places, as he held her tightly to him.


	12. Journeys

Sun raked the pillars of stone, bathing them with a brilliant sulfurous glow. The massive boulders jutted out of the earth in a circular pattern, pointing to the sky like jagged teeth. They rose three times the height of a man. Aside from grass, nothing grew within the circle itself. The travelers stood in a cluster just outside the ring, all of them eyeing it warily. Merida had told them what this place was like, but Emma hadn't quite counted on the eeriness factor. They hadn't seen any of the 'wisps' that Merida claimed were in the area, but there was a sense of otherworldliness about the place nonetheless that made Emma shiver. The nervous breathing of seven people and a dragon made for a small cloud of frozen breath hanging in the air. It was a chilly morning. No one spoke. It seemed like this place was...not vibrating exactly, but there was a shivery feeling in the air that couldn't be called exactly normal.

"We have to go inside, mommy," whispered Moriah. Her blue eyes were round as teacups. Emma hugged her tighter. Moriah so rarely showed fear that when she did, it made Emma's tongue stick to the roof of her mouth.

"Moriah, honey, what's going to happen exactly? Do you know?"

Her daughter shook her head and buried her face in Emma's neck. Killian leaned down to kiss the top of Moriah's head.

"It's all right, darling," he said, smoothing her hair down with his good hand.

"Does anyone know the date?" asked Merida, sounding distracted. She was staring at the rising orb of the sun appearing beyond the stone teeth of the circle.

"The date? It's the 31st of October, lass," responded Killian, exchanging a curious look with Emma.

Merida turned to face them, the color draining from her face.

"What is it, Merida?" asked Hic, voice laced with concern.

"Samhain...today is Samhain..." her voice shrunk to a whisper.

"Oh..." whispered Hic. "Is that like Winternights? We celebrate those at the end of October in Berk..."

"I don't know...here, it's a date that has meaning, from the ancient times..." her voice trailed off again. She started when she realized that everyone was staring at her. "Och, it's probably a coincidence, is all. It's just that supposedly, the spirits and fairies can come into our world more easily on certain days. The ancients used to light great bonfires on Samhain. They're just stories, anyway."

Merida had tried to sound flippant but it was clear she found the idea of being in the stone circle on Samhain disturbing. She checked and re-checked the quiver on her back and the string of her bow as she talked.

"Maybe that means it will be easier for us to get out of this one, then?" said Elsa. She was clutching Arthur's arm, belying the calm tone of her voice.

"You have to make a fire, mommy," Moriah mumbled against her neck.

"A fire?"

"Yeah, in the middle."

Emma took a deep breath and squared her shoulders.

"Everyone ready?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer, she strode into the clearing. In the first moments, nothing seemed different. After a few heartbeats though, she became aware of the change in the sounds around them. The chirping of the birds and the rustle of branches had gone quiet. There was a low hum resounding from somewhere. Emma thought she could feel a slight vibration under her feet. The air smelled differently too. The scents of the forest were gone, replaced with a sharp metallic scent, reminiscent of blood. Emma swallowed hard and kissed her daughter's forehead. She felt movement at her elbow and became aware of Killian beside her. Turning, she saw Arthur and Elsa entering the circle. The air seemed to ripple slightly when they stepped through. Beyond the stones, Merida straightened her bow across her chest one last time and made as though to adjust her skirts, apparently forgetting that she had put on breeches this morning. Clenching her hands into fists, she strode across the threshold of the circle, unblinking. She didn't turn to see if Hic and Toothless followed her, but Emma saw her looking out of the corner of her eye. Everyone breathed more easily when Hic and the dragon walked through and rejoined their group.

"A fire, huh kid?" said Emma. She tried to hand Moriah to her father, but the little girl wiggled down and looked up at the adults, her face the picture of seriousness.

"Everyone needs to stand in a circle and hold hands. Mommy will make the fire in the middle."

The grownups all shrugged at each other. Shuffling into place, they formed a circle in the center of the clearing. While Toothless didn't exactly have hands to hold, Hic took hold of one of his great forepaws and Merida the other. Emma was last to join, taking Moriah's hand to the left and Elsa's to the right. When the circle was closed, the humming deepened and grew louder. The subtle vibration beneath their feet strengthened noticeably. Everyone shifted their feet and looked around nervously. Emma licked her lips and concentrated on forming fire at the center of the circle. A flame the size of a pin floated in the center of their ring. As she funneled energy into it, the flame grew slowly until it was the size of a basketball. The hum and vibration of the circle increased in step with the flame's expansion.

The air around them began to shimmer and shake. Emma was breathing rapidly, trying to maintain her concentration in the face of the terror that was threatening to overwhelm her. She thought briefly of breaking the circle and letting the fire vanish. The danger of what they were doing was suddenly obvious to her and the urge to flee nearly undid her. But a momentary flash of Henry's face, followed by Snow's and David's, strengthened her resolve. They had to get out of this false reality, this snow-globe of a realm. They had to find their people. The anger and hurt of five years spent searching put steel into her spine and fed her magic until the fire roared in front of them. The flames were spitting as high as the stones, higher, twisting upward in a column of fire. The heat was intense against her exposed skin and she could feel it soaking through her jacket.

The earth began to tremble and shake, making it difficult to stand straight.

"Hang on!" she yelled to the group. Somehow she knew that if they broke the circle or if she let the flames extinguish, they would all be lost, worse than dead. Concentrating on the fire for all she was worth, Emma threw everything she had at it. The flames twisted higher and higher, until they seemed to be reaching to the moon. The ground heaved and pitched, the hum quickly turning from a low susurration into a high pitched keening that wailed and screeched. The flames grew brighter and brighter, turning first orange, then yellow, then to pure white. Emma sensed she wasn't really in control of them any longer. She gave up fighting for mastery of the flames and let them be. The blazing white of the flames grew and brightened until it hurt to look at them. Shutting her eyes tight, she tried to look away. The light increased and increased, to the point of pain and beyond. Emma screamed with the overwhelming intensity of it and then, darkness suddenly descended like a guillotine. The light was gone, and the noise and vibration along with it.

Opening her eyes cautiously, she found her vision dancing with bright spots. She squeezed Moriah's hand gently and was gratified to feel her squeeze back. As her sight returned, she realized that they weren't in darkness after all. It just seemed like it after the brightness of the flames. They were standing in a wasted landscape. A pale sun cast long shadows through the scrub brush. What little vegetation there was appeared sickly and blighted. There was a sense of wrongness, of festering rot, that permeated the place.

Uneasy, Emma sought Killian through her blurry eyes. He was the first to break the circle, releasing Hic's hand and gathering her and Moriah into his arms.

"What is this place?" asked Arthur, spinning slowly around.

No one answered. There was nothing to be seen in any direction. A gray sky, wan sunlight, blasted rocky ground was all that the eye could see for a thousand miles.

"We'll get up high and take a look," offered Hic, climbing onto Toothless. Emma's stomach tightened as they kicked off from the ground. This place made her feel deeply uneasy. Getting separated sounded like a bad idea, but the dragon was already a speck circling high above. Emma worried until Toothless landed lightly a few minutes later.

"Nothing. As far as the eye can see, nothing," said Hic, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like it."

Emma's eye was drawn to the horizon off to her right. A momentary flash of light winked, and then was gone.

"Did you see that?" she asked. Everyone looked puzzled.

"See what, love?" asked Killian.

"There was a flash of light, that direction," she pointed to where the flicker had appeared.

Everyone shook their heads no. She was the only one. Perhaps she'd imagined it?

"Well, Swan, we don't have a lot of options here. If you saw something, perhaps we should make in that direction."

"Moriah, honey, have you seen this place? In your dreams?"

Moriah shook her head no, staring at her feet.

Emma sighed. "All right, then. I guess it's as good a direction as any."

They set off. The pale sun striking down was merciless in its intensity. Everyone was sweating and shedding layers as they walked. Nothing seemed to live in this place. Not so much as an insect or a snake to be seen. There was no breeze, either. The air was uncannily still, offering no relief from the oppressive heat. After a few hours of walking, Emma called a halt. They pulled out their packed rations and had lunch, trying to conserve what water they had brought. Emma had a feeling that there was none to be found in this place.

The sun sank quickly after they started walking again. It was dusk and then dark in the space of an hour. Time didn't seem to behave correctly here.

"I suppose we should stop for the night and make camp, rather than stumble about in the dark" suggested Killian. Everyone murmured assent and lay out their sleeping blankets. Emma gathered what kindling and dried brush she could find and lit a small fire, though the burning wood smelled wrong somehow, creating a faintly putrid smoke.

No one seemed inclined to talk much. Something about this place weighed on everyone. They divvied up watch duty. Emma took the first shift, stroking Moriah's hair as she dropped off to sleep on her lap. Nothing moved out in the landscape, at least that Emma could see in the ring of their campfire. There was no moon visible in the sky, or stars. Just a blank, velvet blackness soaking in around them like it meant to swallow their small party whole. She stoked the fire and shivered, grateful for Killian's warmth at her back. With the disappearance of the sun, the heat fled this place.

After two hours, she tapped Killian to take his shift at sentry and curled up around Moriah, drifting off despite the threatening aspect of their new surroundings.

She awoke hours later to shouting. Leaping to her feet, she drew her gun and tried desperately to make sense of what was going on. Toothless was roaring, raising himself up on his hind legs. Merida was yelling at him, begging him to calm down.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" yelled Killian. He'd just woken up as well and was holding his cutlass at the ready. Moriah was crying.

"It's Hic, he's gone!" said Elsa. She was leaning into Arthur, looking ill in the washed out light of early morning.

"Gone?"

"He was supposed to wake me to take watch hours ago," said Arthur, looking shaken. "When I woke up, he was nowhere near the camp. We've been calling, but..."

Toothless roared again and lifted into the air with Merida halfway into the harness, striking out before she could secure herself.

"We'll find him..." she was shouting as they streaked into the distance.

"It's this place, Killian. It feels...wrong," said Emma, leaning into her husband's side.

"Aye, that it does, love."

They made a hasty breakfast. When Toothless hadn't returned within an hour, they set off again. Emma hadn't seen the flash of light again. She prayed silently that it actually existed, whatever it was. Not only was Hic missing, but they were already running low on water.

After several hours of walking in the increasing heat of the day, they made a stop for lunch. A dark spot appeared on the horizon suddenly. Several minutes later it resolved into Toothless, still with only one rider.

The dragon landed in a dusty heap, panting. Merida poured some water from her canteen into his open mouth.

"Any sign?" asked Emma, knowing with a sinking heart that there wouldn't have been.

Merida just shook her head and sat down in the scant shade cast by Toothless.

"What should we do?" asked Arthur.

No one responded for a long beat.

"Keep moving, mate. Nothing else to do," said Killian, reluctantly.

Emma was helping Merida to her feet when Arthur suddenly yelled, "Noooooo!"

Emma summoned a fireball as she turned, expecting to see a monster or something she could fight. Instead she found Arthur on his knees, staring around wildly. After a moment, it dawned on her why. Elsa was nowhere to be seen.

000000

They stayed together in a tight pack after that, even Toothless and Merida, though they would've preferred flying and searching from the air.

Stumbling through the rocks and underbrush, they didn't speak. thirst was becoming a real problem. They'd been walking for a day and a half, with no sign of water anywhere. Worse, there'd been no further sign of the light on the horizon that had set them in motion. Emma couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking to their deaths, and that she had led them here.

Arthur disappeared before they made camp the second night. He'd been walking beside Killian one moment, and gone the next. Emma hugged Moriah to her tightly. If she'd had the strength to carry the girl, she would've, as if she could prevent whatever was happening from touching her daughter merely by holding onto her tightly.

They shared out a meager dinner of cheese and bread, sipping their water as little as possible. The small fire lit faces ashen with loss and worry. Emma took the first watch again. She kept her eyes peeled as though her life depended on it, which she supposed it did. That didn't stop the disappearance of Merida, however. One moment, she'd been curled up against Toothless, sleeping restlessly. The next, her blankets were empty. Emma nudged Killian awake. He knew before she told him that someone was gone. The relief in his eyes when he saw it wasn't her or Moriah was evident, followed swiftly by guilt for that relief.

Just the three of them and Toothless set off in the morning, silently continuing on the same heading, though Emma was sure by now that she'd been seeing things.

"What are we going to do, Killian?" she whispered as they trudged along, sweat soaking her back. Moriah was riding on Toothless, swaying drowsily.

"It'll be all right, Emma," he replied softly, squeezing her hand.

"How can it? We've lost everyone, Killian. We don't know where we are or where we're going!"

"We still have each other, love," he said, pulling her to a stop.

"But for how long? I couldn't go on if I lost y-"

He cut her off with a gentle kiss. Emma closed her eyes and let him carry her away for a moment, let herself pretend that none of this was happening. After too brief a spell, Killian pulled away. She opened her eyes with a smile, reaching out for him to pull him back, and grabbed nothing but air.

"Nonononononononono...Killian!" she screamed, stumbling. "Noooooooo!"

"Mommy, mommy!" shrieked Moriah.

Emma jumped up and ran over to Toothless, pulling her daughter into her arms.

"It's okay, baby, it's okay," she breathed, hyperventilating. She willed herself to calm down. She had to be strong for Moriah. She had to save her daughter, that was all that mattered now. Toothless nuzzled her back. His big green eyes were rimmed with red and full of sadness. Choking back tears of panic and rage, she patted his nose gently.

"Do you think you could carry both of us, Toothless? To fly I mean?

The dragon nodded, wearily, and crouched for her to climb into the harness. Praying that the dragon wouldn't disappear mid-air, she cinched them in. They lifted off slowly, with none of the dragon's usual grace. Her mouth was parched and she knew that Toothy hadn't been getting nearly enough to drink lately either. She patted his side as they lumbered through the sky. Moriah sniffled into an uneasy sleep.

Onward they flew, even as dark descended. Emma supposed there was no harm, if Toothless had the energy. She couldn't stand the thought of making camp with just the three of them. They flew through the night, the beats of Toothless's wings slowing and straining with effort as dawn approached. Emma jerked awake suddenly. She had stayed awake all night, too terrified to close her eyes. As she became aware, the only thing that registered was the emptiness in front of her. Moriah was gone. She was alone.

Numb with shock and pain and exhaustion, Emma slumped in the harness, laying forward against Toothy's neck. Weeping silent tears against his leathery scales, she felt it when he wavered suddenly and their flight faltered. They spun down from the sky, the dragon catching himself as best he could, but too exhausted to arrest their fall. They hit the rocky ground with an impact that jolted her breath from her chest. The dragon's limp body skidded across the barren earth for twenty yards before they came to a final halt.

Toothless's breath rose unsteadily. Emma climbed down wearily from the harness. The dragon had managed to land well enough to protect her from injury, taking all of the impact himself as they hit. Walking around him on wobbling legs, she sobbed at the sight of the bloody wounds and bruises across his head and torso. His wings were perforated in a dozen bloody places by jagged rocks. She knelt and caressed his nose gently. His green cat's eyes opened slightly, tight with misery.

"Please don't leave me, Toothy, don't leave me alone here..." she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

His gaze went blank as though he were staring into the distance beyond her. With one final shuddering release of breath, the beautiful creature that had been Toothless went still beneath her palm. Emma shut her eyes tight against the pain, taking deep breaths.

"Goodbye, Toothless."

She slid his eyelids closed and placed a gentle kiss between them. Turning away from his broken body, she shouldered her pack with a sob and rubbed the tears from her cheeks.

A flicker of anger surfaced within her as she set off again. Increasing the pace to a trot, she forced her legs to obey her commands and nursed the flicker of anger into a bonfire of rage. She would find whoever or whatever had done this, taken her family, killed her friend. And they would pay.

0000000

The flicker reappeared just before sunset. Emma had slowed to a determined walk, dragging herself through the desert with single-minded force of will. Killian's face and Moriah's hung before her, urging her onward. They were out there somewhere, she knew it. She just had to find them. When the light flashed again on the horizon, she returned to her dogged trot. Her lips were peeling with dryness, her canteen having long ago run dry. If she didn't reach the source of the light within the next few hours, she wouldn't make it at all.

The glint reappeared again, and again, increasing in brightness. She got the sense she was actually approaching something at last. The sun was setting rapidly ahead of her, the air shimmering in the late afternoon heat. The glowing orb backlit a series of tall vertical objects. Emma shook her head, sure she was imagining things. For a moment, she thought she'd seen palm trees.

It turned out, she had not been imagining things. After another fifteen minutes of jogging, the palm trees resolved out of the shimmer. What absorbed Emma's attention was what lay at the base of those palm trees. A small pond of water reflected the setting sun. Her cracked lips had stopped bleeding, probably because there was hardly any water left in her body. Stumbling toward this oasis, she could think of nothing but slaking her thirst. The body of water was not large, barely bigger than a backyard swimming pool, but to Emma it was paradise. She threw herself down at the rim of the water and thrust her hands into it. She cupped them and brought them toward her lips with greedy eagerness. She wasn't sure what stopped her a hairs-breadth from putting the water to her lips. Instinct, she supposed. Lowering the water took every ounce of willpower she possessed, but she forced herself to do it.

At second glance, the water was not so inviting. When it had reflected the sunlight, it had appeared blue, but in the waning minutes of sunset the true color was revealed to be a brackish brown. A scent of putrefaction rose from it. Something roiled in the center of the pond, not breaking the surface but sending up stinking bubbles of foul gases. Wiping her hands on her shirt, she felt unclean for having touched it. Suddenly sure that a drink of it would have killed her, she rose with a curse and summoned fire. She surrendered totally to the surge of magic, more than she had ever done since Yemaja. The fireball grew and grew, spiraling over the water as she fed it all her rage and grief and fear. When it had reached the size of the pond and then some, she raised it high into the air a half mile above it before slamming it down with a vengeance into the center of the water.

With a tremendous splash and hiss, the water vaporized in a cloud of filth. When Emma finally opened her eyes, the pond was gone, replaced with a rough crater, still smoldering with the heat of her attack. At the center of the crater, something glinted like gold.

Clambering down into the crater, she tripped and caught herself, singing her hands on the rocks. The glinting metal at the bottom of the bowl was a perfectly round, golden disk the size of a manhole cover. Stamped in the center of it was a compass rose, and etched in the center of that -

"Moriah..." croaked Emma, tracing the word with her fingers. At the sound of the name, the disk separated into four pie-wedge sections and opened downward. Emma peered into the hole, but there was only pitch blackness.

She moved to lay down next to it, thinking to put her head through and see what she could see, but the adjacent rocks were still hot enough to scald and singe.

"Well, Swan...fools jump in..."

With a mirthless chuckle, she stepped right to the edge, and jumped.

000000000

A sensation of slowly falling, falling, falling, nearly lulled her with the softness of the sensation and the total blackness in which she fell. Too physically and mentally destroyed to put up a fuss, she went limp and waited for something to change. Soon enough, something did. A pinprick of light appeared below her. Turning to face it, she was shocked by how quickly it was hurtling toward her. She was going to hit it! Throwing up her arms to protect her face, she was suddenly surrounded by bright light and a moment later, she slammed into something very hard.

Gasping, trying to get her wind back, she finally managed to roll over. A flat grey sky overhead. What felt like cobblestone under her back. Levering up to her elbows, she looked around. She was in a courtyard. Tall stone walls of unrelieved gray granite rose on all four sides, with two openings only. An iron portcullis closed one massive door. Beyond a gray road in a bleak gray landscape stretched infinitely. The other opening in the courtyard was an arched stone orifice leading into total darkness. Torches lined the passageway, yet somehow did nothing to lessen the shadowing of its depths. Looking up, Emma could see that a massive stone castle rose above it. Turrets upon turrets, a forest of them, all massive and severe in design. No flags flew. No sign of people.

Groaning, she pulled herself to her feet. Making her way to the circular well in the center of the courtyard, she hoped there was some potable water to be had. The creak of the wheel as she hauled the bucket upward was the only sound disturbing the silence. The water in the well was flat and tepid, but seemed clean enough. She drank and drank until the bucket was nearly empty. Tipping it up over her head, she let it wash the desert dust from her skin.

"Mommy, mommy!" yelled a familiar voice. It was coming from the dark tunnel to the castle. Hardly believing her ears, Emma cast the bucket aside and stumbled toward it. Moriah bounded out of the darkness and launched herself into Emma's arms. Sobbing, she collapsed to the paving stones and rocked her baby back and forth on her lap.

She slowly became aware that they were not alone. An old woman had tottered out behind Moriah, leaning heavily on a cane. She was extremely tall and thin, her long black dress hanging loosely around her. A long hook nose interrupted a face that otherwise might once have been sweet, giving her a severe countenance. Her eyes were what struck Emma. They were certainly not human. Overlarge, golden, and unblinking, they reminded her of an owl's.

Climbing painfully to her feet, she put Moriah down but held her close to her side.

"Who are you?" asked Emma.

"I am Vandene, the gatekeeper," said the old woman, crisply. "I'm surprised to see another one, especially so soon."

Cocking her head in an avian manner, she was studying Emma with cool curiosity.

"Another one?"

"Another traveler. I sense you are strong in magic, though not as strong as this one. Perhaps that is why you survived. Most unusual."

"Where is my husband? My friends?" demanded Emma. She was in no mood to put up with riddles.

"If they can survive the test, they will arrive in their own way. The journey to Soria Moria is different for each traveler. I must tell you it is unlikely your companions survived. So few do, from the human realm."

The calm, dispassionate voice of the woman changed tone slightly at the mention of the human realm. She gave it a twist of disdain.

"What do you mean, test? None of that was real?" demanded Emma, her voice rising with each word. She'd had just about enough of this crap.

"Oh, it was real enough, to you. Your injuries feel real, do they not?" the old woman smirked at her. "But the test itself is not reality, as such. It is meant to thwart you, to turn you aside, lead you astray. Far more die than survive. Almost all, in fact. And yet, here are two in one day, and one a child. Most curious."

The old woman had a shrewd look on her face, tapping her finger against her lips as though puzzling something out.

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" asked Emma, kneeling in front of Moriah. She decided that ignoring this nasty creature was the best tactic for the moment and she focused instead on checking her daughter for injuries. There were shallow scratches across her face, but otherwise she seemed unharmed. "What was your...test...like Moriah? Were you in the desert?"

Moriah shook her head, eyes glazing with fear.

"What is it sweetie? You can tell mommy."

Moriah shook her head more vigorously and threw her arms around Emma's neck.

"Shhhh...it's okay, Moriah. You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

Emma opened her mouth to ask where they could rest in private when a scream erupted from the center of the courtyard. It seemed to be coming from the well. Emma gestured to Moriah to stay back as she started edging forward warily. A river of ice burst upward from the well, carrying with it a disheveled, terrified Elsa.

The queen came to rest on a slurry of ice at Emma's feet. Helping her up, Emma tried to soothe her but the woman was semi-catatonic. She kept repeating, "I chose badly, I chose badly, I was so wrong about him, so wrong..." over and over again.

Hugging her to get some warmth back into her, Emma turned to ask the owl-lady to take them inside. The woman was standing immobile, mouth hanging open.

"A...a...dottír of Niflheimr...I...it can't be!" she stuttered.

"Whatever!" snapped Emma. "Take us inside, now!"

Snapped from her reverie, Vandene sniffed haughtily and turned on her heel, limping away at a rapid clip.

Emma followed, supporting Elsa, Moriah at her heels.

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A short time later, they were nestled in front of a roaring fire in a comfortable sitting room. Elsa had been asleep for some time, Moriah snuggled up beside her. Emma was exhausted, but too on edge to sleep. The old hag had left them alone finally, after making some cryptic remarks about needing to check some things in the library. Good riddance, snorted Emma.

She lay back in her chair and sipped her tea, mindful of her cracked lips. The heat of the fire was uncomfortable against her sunburned skin. She rose, scooted the chair back and took her seat again, sighing impatiently.

"Hurry up, Killian Jones," she muttered.


	13. Camelot

Arthur staggered as though he'd fallen from a great height and struggled to maintain his balance. The air was cool against his palms, where just a moment ago he'd been grasping hands with Elsa and Merida in the center of the stone circle. Wherever he was now, it was dark, and he was apparently alone.

Stumbling forward with hands outstretched, he shuffled until his hands touched a smooth stone wall. He felt his way along, carefully. The air was cool and musty, with a faint undercurrent of sewage. His hand alighted at last on a wood panel, which proved to be a door. Pulling it open cautiously, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the torchlight in the corridor. He recognized this place! He was in his castle at Camelot, in the storage rooms deep within its bowels. He'd spent many an afternoon hiding from Merlin down here as a boy, and later, many an evening sneaking kisses from pretty young women in dark corners. Footsteps were approaching from around the corner. Some instinct told him to remain unseen. Tucking himself behind the door, he closed it all but a crack and peered out. Two guards rounded the corner. They wore livery in addition to their chain mail and helmets, but it was not the colors customary to Camelot. They were clothed in severe black from head to toe, the only adornments being patches on the sleeves worked in silver thread. Arthur was shocked to see that the patches showed neither his own dragon crest or the triple crown of Camelot. It was a three-pointed star, each point ending in a swirl.

"Morgana," he breathed silently. It couldn't be! She'd been banished years ago, when Merlin had discovered his sister's foul schemes to usurp his throne. Arthur hadn't had the heart to execute or imprison her, so she'd been sent to one of the far keeps in the northern part of his realm. Had she returned from exile?

"The Queen returned yesterday from the eastern campaign. She ordered him punished again today, I hear, for still refusing to kneel," murmured one guard quietly.

"He's not much more than skin and bones at this point. He might not survive another go 'round," responded the other. Their voices were so low that Arthur strained to hear them.

"Hard to believe, that the great and powerful Merlin could be reduced to a broken wretch..."

Arthur started in surprise. Merlin? A broken wretch? Morgana, the Queen of Camelot? What in the bloody hell was going on? Head reeling, Arthur waited for the guards to pass before creeping silently from his hiding place.

The hallways were, thankfully, quite deserted. If Merlin really were a prisoner here, they must be keeping him in the dungeons. Making his way downward to the prison level, Arthur's head swum with all the questions running through it. Was this real? What had happened to his companions when they stepped through the stones? His stomach clenched thinking of Elsa.

The walls of the castle felt real enough, as was the foul smell of filthy hay and unwashed bodies emanating from the corridor leading to the cells. There was but one guard at the entry to the dungeons, perched on a wooden stool. Not seeing any way to surprise him, Arthur decided on the direct approach. Walking assertively toward him, he saw the young man's eyes slowly widen as he recognized who it was.

"Y-you? Is it really-? Sire?" gulped the boy. He could hardly be more than fifteen, the barest hint of a beard on his chin.

"What is your name, boy?" he asked, sternly. Better to assert his authority rather than resort to violence, if possible.

"Peverelle, sir," said the boy as he leapt up from his stool, gaping. "I thought- aren't you dead, sire?"

"Clearly not," responded Arthur grimly. "Take me to Merlin."

The lad paled several shades and licked his lips nervously.

"I'm not supposed to let anyone see the prisoner, by order of the Que-"

He broke off at the look on Arthur's face and swallowed the remainder of the sentence.

"I'll see him now, Peverelle." His tone brooked no argument. The lad nodded and spun on his heel, Arthur following a step behind.

The dungeon had never been a cheery place, of course, but Arthur swore it had worsened. The dim torchlight showed layers of filth on the cold stone floor. Rats skittered in the shadows. Moans rose here and there from behind the heavy wooden cell doors.

Peverelle finally stopped at the last door and drew forth an iron key ring, flicking his eyes nervously at Arthur. At his nod, the boy took a deep breath and unlocked the door. It swung open on creaking hinges, expelling a raft of dank air. Arthur could make out nothing of the interior. He grabbed the nearest torch from the wall and stepped into the cell. He gasped aloud.

An impossibly thin old man hung limply from the far wall. Dried blood at wrists and ankles stained the manacles that held him to the stone. A mane of bedraggled grey hair obscured his face in a long, filthy sheet that merged with his equally long and filthy beard. His scanty clothing consisted of nothing more than a few thin rags. Arthur grabbed the keys from Peverelle, who was standing frozen in the doorway. Merlin didn't stir as Arthur unlocked the shackles and gently lowered him to the floor. The old man weighed nearly nothing and was so cold his skin was faintly blue. Whipping off his wool coat, Arthur wrapped it around the bony shoulders and forced him into a sitting position.

"Water, Peverelle, now!" snapped Arthur, unable to hide his fury at seeing his old friend in this pitiable condition. Welts and bruises covered the frail body from head to toe.

The young guard disappeared for a moment and returned with a wooden mug of water. Lifting it to Merlin's lips, Arthur choked back an angry sob. What had become of his kingdom, that this brave and wise man was reduced to a tortured husk, dying in Camelot's dungeons?

"Merlin, it's me, Arthur. Wake up Merlin, please," he whispered. The old man's eyelids fluttered open, revealing eyes still bright blue but no longer twinkling with some private joke as they once had. They were rheumy with pain and exhaustion.

"Arthur?" he whispered through cracked lips.

"Yes, it's me, old friend. What has happened here?"

"Arthur, you've come back to us...we are saved..."

"Merlin, what has become of Camelot? You must tell me, so that I may put it aright somehow-"

The sound of a sword being unsheathed brought Arthur surging to his feet, grabbing at Excalibur. He had no opportunity to use it, though. Three thuggish-looking knights he didn't recognize stood in the narrow doorway, blades drawn. He was cornered.

"The queen wishes to see you," said one of them, flatly. He gestured with his sword at Arthur, bidding him to come out.

"You as well, wizard," he added, with a disgusted glance at the man lying helplessly on the floor.

"He can't walk, man, can't you see he's nearly dead?!" growled Arthur, incensed.

"Then pick him up and carry him, _your majesty,_" sneered another of the knights.

With an angry huff, Arthur bent and scooped the frail body into his arms with as much gentleness as he could manage. He turned sideways to ease them through the doorway, the knights edging away warily, swords at the ready. Peverelle stood to the side, eyes downcast and chewing his lip miserably. He didn't raise his head as Arthur stalked past, so he missed the glare that was leveled at him for his betrayal. Arthur was beginning to realize how little loyalty he could expect from his subjects. Morgana must have a stronger grip on them than he could have imagined.

"This way," snapped the first knight, stepping in front of Arthur with a small shove. "She wishes you brought to the throne room."

"I know the way," said Arthur, keeping his voice level with an effort.

They walked silently upward through the castle, the stench of the dungeons fading away as they went. The knights kept their swords out, one remaining in front and the other two bringing up the rear. He could hear anxious whispers from the household staff as they passed, his name faintly audible from time to time. The mood in the castle was one of fear and darkness that was palpable. Not a trace of the hospitality and tranquility that was once the hallmark of this place remained. The dragon banners that had once draped the balconies with splashes of brilliant crimson and gold were gone, replaced with Morgana's silver emblem on fields of black. There was an unpleasant hush in the air as they approached the huge set of doors to the throne room, their footsteps echoing dully on the flagstones.

The first knight paused to adjust his armor before pushing the doors open. Arthur straightened and strode through after him, intending to behave as though he were still ruler of this place. He hoped he hid his shock at what awaited him. Silent rows of courtiers swathed in somber tones lined both sides of the room, watching him with expressions ranging from fear to curiosity to hope. Mostly fear. The golden dragon mosaic that had once occupied the center of the floor, twenty spans across, had been replaced with a silver disk etched with Morgana's crest.

These things he noted only in passing. His gaze was focused on the woman at the end of the hall. She was lounging upon his throne as though it had always been hers, gazing down at him with a triumphant smirk. Her features were almost masculine in their severity, giving her the appearance of being carved from marble. Other men had always found her attractive, but even had he not been her half-brother, he would never have found her pretty. He knew too well the cruelty behind those olive-green eyes, the twist that evil words gave to her full lips. She might have the face of a beautiful woman, but it was an illusion. She was a magic-wielder, like Merlin, but unlike him, she had never used her powers for good. Her skills had only ever been bent toward her own gain, or the torment of an enemy.

His mouth compressed in a thin line as he came closer and noticed the golden diadem nestled in her dark hair. The gems adorning it had apparently been stripped from his own crown. In light of everything else, it was a small thing. But still, it rankled.

The knights around him kneeled. He noted there were a handful of them assembled behind the throne as well, none of whom he recognized. That was something, if his own knights had all refused to serve her then perhaps there were still loyal men in Camelot. He remained standing, glaring at Morgana. Her eyebrow raised but she didn't acknowledge his defiance. Yet, anyway.

"Brother, you have returned," she purred.

"I have. And not a moment too soon, it would seem."

His voice rang out cold and clear in the huge chamber. A ripple of shocked whispers made its way through the assembled court. He was willing to bet that no one else dared address Morgana this way.

"What could have kept you from your beloved subjects for five long years, Arthur? Surely, it must have been of great importance to have abandoned Camelot as you did," she smiled as she said this, keeping her voice light. She had always been good at smiling as she drove home the poisoned dagger. "Was there fine hunting to be had? Or were you perhaps in the arms of an especially charming tavern wench?"

A few nervous titters came from the assembled lords and ladies. Arthur wondered who among them could be counted upon if he were to challenge Morgana.

"It is a long tale," said Arthur, raising his voice so all could hear. "Know that it was not by my own choice that I was parted from my kingdom, and that I have struggled to return every day since."

"So you look quite well, brother. Was it a pleasant holiday you took, while the crops failed and your people starved?"

Arthur frowned. Famine? It was true that the faces he had seen so far were a bit thin and pale. Was the kingdom starving?

"It appears the person ruling in my stead has not done so well by my people as she should have," he replied slowly, emphasizing the words with icy calm.

He enjoyed the brief flush of her cheeks and the flashing in her eyes. The crowd had hushed and was holding its collective breath.

"I have done as I must to pick up the pieces of the kingdom you abandoned, foolish boy," she snapped, her face contorted with rage for a moment before she regained control of herself. This was the Morgana he knew and loathed. Petty, always blaming others for her faults, scheming and lying.

Merlin stirred against his chest, apparently waking from his stupor. "Put me down, boy," he whispered, barely audible. Arthur lowered the gnarled feet gently to the floor and held him by one bony arm to keep him from falling. The wizard swayed, but remained upright.

"Merlin the Traitor. Of course, you would be at Arthur's side, whispering in his ear. Though stripped of your powers, I wonder how much good you can do your liege lord now?"

Merlin stiffened and raised his head as high as he was able. The years of bad treatment had bowed him, but a flicker of spirit remained. He pointed a knobby finger at Morgana. Arthur noted with satisfaction that she flinched, albeit almost imperceptibly. Perhaps there was some power left in the old man, after all. Or maybe Morgana simply remembered the immense strength he once possessed.

Merlin's voice was but a reedy echo of what it had been once, but it still carried clearly. "You are not the rightful ruler, Morgana Le Fay. You have usurped the crown and brought Camelot to destruction and constant warfare. You have drained its coffers in your lust for power and killed thousands in your campaigns. You are unfit to rule-"

Morgana's laughter pealed in the vast echoing silence, mocking Merlin and drowning out his speech.

"You always were an old fool, wizard! Though I suppose no one can call you wizard any longer. No doubt you aided Arthur in escaping his duty to his people, covering up his cowardice with your lies and trickery! I have punished you for your treachery and saved this kingdom. I alone have kept it whole! We make war for the glory of Camelot! We fight to expand our lands and swallow the riches of our neighbors. We grow stronger each day!"

Her eyes glowed with messianic fervor, swept up in her own enthusiasm. Arthur stared at her, wondering if she truly believed what she was saying. He knew she had always hungered to rule, but this was something else, something bordering on madness.

"I will show you how powerful is Camelot grown under my rule. Bring in the prisoners!"

The doors to the throne room swung open again, admitting a cadre of guards with a trio of people in their midst. A flash of blonde hair, so pure it was nearly white, caught his eye. It couldn't be!

"Elsa?" he whispered, shocked to the core. It was she, her blue silk gown ripped and blood-stained. Her loveliness still stopped his breath, just as it had the first time he saw her. Her lush curves, generous enough to make a man's mouth water, were mottled with bruises and scrapes where her dress had torn away. He flushed with anger at seeing each mark on her beautiful skin, especially the fingerprints standing out clearly on her slender neck and shoulders. Oddly, there was a finely woven gold circlet fitted around her neck as well, almost like a collar. Her right eye was swollen as though she'd been struck recently. His heart pounded with fury. How was this possible? Had she come through the portal with him and been captured? Elsa swept her gaze calmly past him, not giving him the slightest hint of recognition. Was it possible she didn't know him? Was this all a bad dream? His head spun with a thousand thoughts, each more confusing than the last.

"Are you ready to kneel and swear fealty to your queen?" asked Morgana, clearly relishing her victory.

Elsa glared up at the throne, clenching her hands. "I swore to you when last we saw each other, Morgana, that I would never bend knee to you. Were it not for this...collar, it would be you be bending knee to me right now."

Her voice rang out defiantly, full of icy dignity. Arthur had been wondering why Elsa didn't just level the entire castle. Even Morgana wasn't a match for her when it came to magic. The gold collar encircling her neck must be some sort of amulet to block her abilities, then. Arthur knew very well what Elsa was capable of. Apparently, so did Morgana.

"Fortunate, then, that I was the cleverer of the two of us," came the smooth reply. "It was a dear price I paid for that amulet, and a dearer price I paid to bribe your servants, but worth every coin."

Morgana snapped her fingers, and the guards pushed forward the other two prisoners, a woman with long copper braids and a tall blond man, both looking terrified. Arthur then saw that there was also a fourth prisoner, a small girl with copper pigtails clinging tightly to her mother's skirts. He realized with a sinking feeling who the woman must be. Elsa's sister, Anna.

"Your kingdom is fallen to my army. Arendelle is now under my control. You are my prisoner. I could release your sister and her family, should you prove your loyalty," Morgana paused, adding, "or execute them, should you fail to do so."

Arthur gasped. Morgana was threatening to execute an innocent child and her parents to coerce a ruler to swear fealty! This was madness!

"Morgana-" he started, advancing toward the throne menacingly. Several black-clad knights stepped forward to block him.

"Silence, little brother. This is how a real monarch rules: with an iron fist."

"A true leader need force no one to kneel, Morgana," he said. Merlin met his eyes with a watery smile. Those were his words, spoken to a young Arthur many years ago.

He turned back to Elsa, unable to stop himself. As always, she drew him to her like a magnet pulling a compass needle. She stood regally, facing down Morgana with quiet defiance. Bruised and beaten though she was, she was achingly beautiful. God help him, he loved her. Had from the moment she'd surprised him on the top of that boulder. He had to find some way to save her, and her family, from Morgana.

"We both know, Morgana, that you will allow no one from my family to live, whether I kneel or not. You have murdered the ruling families of every kingdom you have conquered, down to the most distant cousin and the family pet. Why would we be any different?" demanded Elsa, voice full of cold fury.

Anna was trembling but stared with unveiled loathing at Morgana. Her husband had an arm wrapped protectively around her and the child, eyes darting warily about the room. He was a large man, but looked more like a farmer than a soldier.

Morgana smiled like a cat contemplating a trapped mouse. "Fair point."

Rising, she raised her hand and flicked her fingers outward as though tossing a ring. With a woosh, the small family was swallowed by a pillar of blue flame, the roar of the fire mingling with screams of pain. Arthur could feel waves of heat at thirty paces. Elsa was screaming and frantically clawing the guards in a futile attempt to reach her sister.

"No!" yelled Arthur, running for Elsa before he could even think. Behind him, he heard Merlin shout something. A backward glance showed the wizened wizard facing Morgana, ribbons of white fire shooting from his hands with surprising strength. Morgana was dodging and tossing balls of lightning back at him, a shocked expression on her face. Arthur smiled grimly. Evidently, the old man still had some magic left after all, despite whatever Morgana had done to strip him of it.

Arthur was racing across the throne room toward Elsa when something caught his attention. The silver-worked mosaic in the floor shifted and blurred at its center, the metal puddling suddenly as though melted. It shimmered and turned yellow, forming a golden disk two feet across. Its sudden appearance was so odd, so clearly magical, he skidded to a halt, transfixed. An embossed pattern sunk into the metal as he watched, forming a compass rose with a single word inscribed in the center. Moriah.

He sucked in his breath, doubt warring within him. Could this be a way out? What if this wasn't real? But what if it was? He would be abandoning the woman he loved to a horrible fate, and leaving his kingdom in the clutches of a mad sorceress. He looked back to the throne dais just in time to see Merlin take a bolt of lightning in the chest. His frail body fell backward from the dais, a huge hole burned through his skinny chest. A fresh burst of grief bloomed within Arthur, but he had no time to give in to it. Turning back to Elsa, he had a vague plan to free her from the amulet so she could fight Morgana. As he moved away from the golden seal in the floor, he saw it shimmer as though it were disappearing. He paused and turned back to it, whereupon it solidified once again. What should he do? He wanted to scream with frustration. Elsa was sobbing and screaming behind him, struggling to reach the burning pyre that was once her sister. He knew the sound of it would haunt him for the rest of his days. The desire to go to her was so strong, it pained him physically to take a step away and return his attention to the golden disk. But his instincts were telling him that if he let the disk disappear, it would never come again, and with it the answers to the questions that plagued him. Kneeling, and trying to block out the screaming and the scent of burning flesh, he placed a hand on the center of the compass rose. The disk rapidly separated into four pie-wedge sections, which folded downward into pitch blackness.

"You will not escape me, Arthur! I will see you kneel before me! Or you will die, like this pitiful queen!"

Morgana was stalking toward him, murder in her eyes. She flung her hand toward Elsa. Turning in horror, he saw his ice queen enveloped by a pillar of fire, her beautiful hair igniting like a torch. With a wrenching sob, he flung himself forward through the opening, and into oblivion. I'm sorry, my love! Forgive me!

He didn't know how long he fell, drifting through perfect darkness. He was beginning to worry that he had fallen down an infinitely deep hole, when he landed flat on his back without warning, his breath going in a startled whoosh. Sitting up slowly, he struggled to recover the breath that had been knocked out of him. Logic told him that what had just happened in Camelot was not truly real, but the feeling that he had betrayed Elsa weighed on him like a suit of lead armor. He ran shaking hands through his hair and scrubbed hard at his cheeks. He imagined what Merlin would say right now. Are you just going to sit here all day like a lump on a log? He cast a fervent prayer into the sky that Merlin was still alive, somewhere.

Climbing to his feet wearily, he tried to make sense of where he was. The land that surrounded him was perfectly flat, stretching away in both directions in an infinity of uninterrupted gray. The dead grass and dirt blended together into a washed out plain that blended almost seamlessly with the flat grey sky overhead. No wind stirred. The silence, especially after the scene in the throne room, was completely disconcerting. The road he was on was smooth packed dirt, wide enough for a cart. It ran straight on in both directions, one way seeming much the same as the other. He studied it carefully but could see no means by which to choose which way to walk. There was not even a sun in the sky by which to judge cardinal directions. There was simply the featureless horizon and unrelieved grayness. Sighing, he checked that Excalibur was secured firmly at his side and set off on the path, hoping the way he chose was the right one, and that Elsa waited for him at the end of it.


	14. Waking Dreams

Killian fell to his knees as the ground dropped away beneath him. His hook dug into the grass as he groped for balance. He had tried with all his might to hang on to Moriah's tiny hand but he had lost hold of it at some point as they...traveled...through the stones.

Emma! Moriah! He sat up, looking around wildly. Emma lay to his right, sprawled in the grass and seemingly unconscious. Moriah was between them, curled into a little ball. Putting his hand to her cheek, he breathed a sigh of relief. She was breathing.

"Moriah, love! Emma!" he reached over and shook her shoulder.

She groaned and rolled over, blinking confusedly before sitting bolt upright.

"What happened?!"

"I don't know, love. We were in the stone circle, and now...my god..."

His voice trailed off as he stood and looked around, mouth hanging open.

"Killian...we're home," said Emma breathlessly, sounding as shellshocked as he was.

It was midnight according to the library clock. The street lamps gave off a sulfurous glow. They hadn't been back here in three years. Killian frowned.

"Emma, do you see-"

"Killian-"

They both spoke at the same time, voices full of disbelief. Killian had been about to point out that the grass in the park appeared to be freshly mown and the leaves raked into neat piles. Emma was staring up at the windows of the loft that had been David and Snow's apartment. The light was on.

Killian picked up Moriah, who was looking around sleepily. Wordlessly, they made their way across the street. Looking at each other, eyes wide, neither of them knew quite what to do. Emma shrugged and opened the door. The three of them climbed the stairs. Emma was wringing her hands nervously, standing in front of the familiar mint-green door.

"Go ahead, love," he whispered with an encouraging smile.

Emma smiled back anxiously. He could see the hope and the fear warring in her eyes. With a shaking hand, she knocked.

"Coming," came David's voice from the inside.

Emma doubled over as if punched in the gut. Killian put Moriah down and was about to wrap his arm around his wife when the door swung open.

"Hey Emma honey, what's the matter? Why are you here so late? Are you going into labor?"

David was dressed in sweats, holding a baby gently to his shoulder and looking exhausted. He was gazing at them quizzically, but in no way behaved as if he hadn't seen them in five years. Emma and Killian were unable to speak, both of them staring gobsmacked at David. Slowly, Emma straightened.

The transformation of David's face was a sight to see. His expression went from concerned to confused, then he looked Emma up and down and he went completely pale.

"Emma, what happened?" he whispered, obviously upset.

Emma stared at him in shock, clearly unsure how to answer.

"Is that Emma and Killian? Are they having the baby?"

Snow's voice called from inside the loft. She appeared behind David, looking worried. She looked Emma up and down as David had done, eyes popping when they reached her stomach.

Snow looked up at Emma, tears in her eyes, and fainted dead away.

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An hour later, the situation was much clearer to everyone, not that it made a bit more sense.

"I just can't believe it," murmured David for the hundredth time, staring at his granddaughter with shining eyes. Moriah was sitting happily on Snow's lap, eating a chocolate chip cookie with the kind of delight that only a child who had never eaten one before could have.

"Three days ago, you were eight months pregnant," said Snow slowly, as if she were still trying to wrap her mind around it. "And now you have a five year old?"

Emma couldn't stop grinning through her tears. She was holding baby Neal, still a one year old infant. Like the others, he was just as she had seen him last. Her joy was transparent.

"Aye, it's been five years for us. Not easy ones, I'm afraid," said Killian, reaching for the rum. He inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma of his favorite vintage. His own stock aboard the Jolly Roger had run dry a year into the voyage. Smacking his lips, he gestured toward David with the cup.

David obliged him with another splash and added one to his own mug. After their adventure with Yemaja, David had acquired a liking for rum almost on par with his own. It was one of the items on a short list that they had in common. Tipping their cups to each other, they took another hearty swallow.

Killian shook his head, trying to clear it. The shock was wearing off and the rum was fogging his wits. He had a momentary feeling that this was all some elaborate trick. The thought froze his heart in his chest and he forgot to breathe for a moment. They'd just spent the last five years in a hellish alternate world. What if this wasn't real either? It was certainly hard to believe that no time had passed in Storybrooke while they were away.

He caught Emma's eye and his breath returned in a rush. She was smiling tremulously at him. He knew she was battling her own fears, but that the sheer happiness of being home again was winning. Overcome with emotion, he leaned in and kissed her gently. As if this gave her permission to give in to her feelings, she nestled her face in his neck and sobbed her heart out.

Snow and David exchanged concerned looks over Moriah's head. This had been extremely unsettling for everyone. Moriah alone seemed unperturbed. She grabbed another cookie from the plate and hopped down from her grandmother's lap.

Coming around to her mother's knee, she tapped it gently.

"It's okay, Mommy. Here, have a cookie."

Emma laughed and sniffled, sitting up. She passed Neal back to Snow and picked up Moriah, nuzzling her hair.

"I need to see Henry," she said, wiping her eyes with a tissue.

"Regina won't be too thrilled if you just show up in the middle of the night, honey," said Snow.

"Everyone thinks I'm about to give birth, right? Someone should just call and tell her that it's time and Henry needs to come to the loft."

David shrugged and went to get the phone. "It's your funeral."

Snow ultimately did the talking. There was some confusion as to why they weren't at the hospital, but Snow smoothed it over saying Emma wanted to stay home for a bit longer and she wanted to see Henry before they went.

Emma was bouncing her knees nervously.

"I can't believe he's going to be the same age he was when we left. All these years, I thought he was growing up without me. It's like I'm getting a second chance," she said, nursing her third cup of cocoa.

Twenty minutes went by before they heard a car drive up. David went to the window.

"Regina's dropping him off, he's on his way up now."

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and then he was opening the door. Emma threw herself at him, gathering him up in a bone-crushing hug before he knew what was going on.

"Mom?"

He pulled away, trying to figure out what was going on. Quickly noticing his mom was no longer pregnant, he looked around in total confusion.

"You had the baby in the last twenty minutes? Where is she? What's going on?"

"Henry, we have a lot to tell you, mate. This," said Killian, hoisting Moriah on his hip, "is your sister, Moriah."

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They finally climbed into bed in their little cottage a few hours later, which looked for all the world like they had never left it. The food in the fridge was still edible, for Neptune's sake! The feeling of strangeness was growing rather than lessening. It was a nagging suspicion that itched between Killian's shoulder blades.

Shaking it off, he lay atop his wife and kissed her thoroughly. They were exhausted, but the adrenaline was clearly still humming through them both. Moriah was asleep on the couch, the crib she'd last slept in now far too small for her.

Emma responded to his kiss with a loving smile, nibbling his lower lip and running her tongue teasingly against his.

"We're home, Killian..." she whispered.

She tasted of chocolate and cinnamon. He kissed his way down her neck, running his tongue over her collarbone, and then lower. Snagging one delicate nipple in his teeth, he rolled it back and forth until it stood at a sharp point and then flicked it with his tongue. Emma's hands wound into his hair. Her legs wrapped around his hips. She was gloriously naked and he could feel her arousal slick against his cock.

Moving his attention to her other nipple, he held himself just at her entrance. She moaned and lifted her hips to him, but he pulled away.

"Killian...please..."

He pulled back, propping himself up on his arms. He stared down at his wife, her beautiful face flushed with desire.

"I love you, Emma," he whispered as he buried himself inside her in one smooth motion.

She cried out and lifted her hips to meet his thrust. He leaned back further, wanting to watch her come apart. Unwinding her legs from his hips, he lifted them until they were against his chest, her ankles pressed against his neck. Reaching down with his hook, he rubbed it gently against her as he thrust with deep, even strokes.

She arched, eyes rolling back in her head. "Yessss...yes...Killian...!"

He bit her ankle gently as she flew apart, climaxing beneath him with a strangled cry. He was losing himself in his own spiraling pleasure when the world...shifted...suddenly. His vision flickered into blackness and then back again so fast he wasn't sure it had even happened. He froze, feeling as though he'd been doused in cold water.

"What is it, Killian? You're white as a sheet!"

Emma was laying back on the sheet gazing up at him with concern. She was so beautiful, his Swan.

"Must've had a bit too much rum, love. It's nothing."

He lay down beside her, spooning gently as she she drifted into sleep. Her even breathing should've soothed him, as it usually did. But the feeling of subtle...wrongness...returned. He lay awake for a long time staring at the ceiling.

Eventually he relaxed, but still sleep eluded him. Rising carefully so as not to wake Emma, he dressed and crept from the cottage. It was nearly dawn. Storybrooke was still and silent, but it no longer had that empty feeling it did when they were last here. Or did it? Killian strolled down the path to the waterfront. He made his way to the docks, thinking of the Jolly Roger. Could Emma and Moriah put her back to rights? It would be so good to sail her again.

Sitting down on the end of the wooden pier where they normally docked his ship, Killian gazed out over the water and felt calmer. Surely, this was a dream come true. Why was he questioning it? It was the best possible outcome to their years of pain and trial. They were back. No time had passed here, which was an unbelievable gift. Emma was so happy. Perhaps their companions had been returned to their own realms as well, which was a heartening idea.

He frowned. It really was the best case scenario, hands down. The situation was practically designed to make everyone, especially Emma, happy. Killian considered himself to be a difficult man to swindle, precisely because anything that came on a silver platter was highly suspicious, in his considered opinion. He had good instincts for bad deals, usually. He just wished he could turn off the alarm bells that were ringing in his head at the moment, and enjoy being home with his family.

Small feet pattered down the dock behind him.

"Moriah, what are you doing out of bed, love?" he murmured, tucking the little girl against his side. Her tiny bare feet dangled over the edge of the pier next to his own, making his boots appear huge by comparison. His heart swelled to bursting with love, as it always did when he looked at his little girl. Until he'd become a father, he'd never known how much it was possible to love a child. And it shamed him to think that a few moments ago, he'd been cynically wondering whether this place was another hideous trap. It was clearly the best possible world to raise his daughter. And maybe even give her a brother or sister one day. He firmly put his doubts about the situation out of his mind and resolved to forget them, for his family's sake.

"Daddy, wake up."

"I am awake," he smiled and kissed Moriah's soft dark hair, the same shade as his own.

"No, you're not."

A chill ran up his spine.

"You feel it too? That this is...off, somehow?"

"I'm not here, daddy. You need to come find us."

Killian stopped breathing. His daughter looked up at him with her wide sapphire eyes glinting in the sunrise and he knew, just knew, that this - all of this, Storybrooke - was not real.

"I'm not supposed to tell you anything, it's against the rules. But I had to help you, Daddy. I just had to."

Motion in the water caught his attention. A golden disk was suddenly floating a dozen yards in front of them. It glowed in the rosy dawn light. Oddly, it didn't move with the water, but sat heavy and immobile as a stone. Moriah pointed to it and nodded. He sighed resignedly, knowing without being told that he had to go to it.

"It had to be in the water, eh?"

They both stood. He stooped to remove his boots, but Moriah shook her head.

"You'll need them."

He dropped to his knees and hugged her tightly.

"This is the right thing to do, isn't it little one? I'm not making a huge mistake?"

"You have to go, before it disappears. If it disappears, you'll be stuck."

"Maybe that wouldn't be so bad."

"It's not real. Mommy needs you."

Killian swallowed hard and let her go. He turned and dove into the water before he could change his mind and started swimming for the disk. He reached it and turned back to the dock.

Moriah was watching him intently. Suddenly she turned as if hearing something.

"Vandene is calling, I have to go. I'll see you soon, Daddy!"

And with that, she simply winked out of existence. Killian shook his head. What was he doing here? He thought momentarily of forgetting about this and going back to the cottage and climbing in bed with his wife. The disk beside him wavered suddenly as if it was about to sink back into the water. He leapt for it and it solidified again. Breathing a sigh of relief, he realized the design stamped into the surface was the same compass rose from the map. Tracing his daughter's name in the center of the rose, he was almost unsurprised when the disk separated neatly into four wedges and opened into a black void. None of the surrounding water slopped into the opening, instead it somehow slid around it but never through. Gathering a deep breath, he flung himself upward and dove head first through the opening.

As he fell through blackness, his only thoughts were of Emma, and Moriah, and the desperate hope that he'd just surfaced from a waking dream.


	15. Howl

SM chapter 15 Howl

Merida tugged the cowl of her cloak tighter about her face, tucking in a few stray strands of hair. Nothing like her ruaidh curls catching the moonlight to give away a position. Though she supposed if the wolves were close enough to see her, she was a dog's dinner already anyway.

Another howl echoed in the distance. They were getting closer. She was still downwind. How were they tracking her? Opening her eyes after the blinding brightness of the stone circle bonfire, she had found herself in a dark woods. A full moon illuminated the ground well enough, but she had found no sign of anyone else. Then, she'd heard the first howl. They'd been hunting her ever since. Hands trembling, she checked her quiver again. No matter how many times she counted, she still only had a dozen arrows. Her extra quivers were in the saddlebags with Toothless. Wherever he was, she hoped he was having a better day than she was. His rider, however...well, she wasn't quite sure how she felt about him at the moment.

Pushing Hic firmly out of her mind, Merida lifted her canteen and frowned at how light it was. After running from wolves for hours, she'd drunk most of her water already. Pulling out some venison jerky, she gnawed on it absentmindedly as she tried to puzzle out again where she was and what she was doing in this place. Aside from running for her life, she thought ruefully.

The woods were eerie enough, to be sure, but she'd gone out hunting at night with her Da many times. That alone wasn't enough to frighten her. But she had grown accustomed to having company again, after five years by herself in Dunbroch. She tamped down the sensation of hollowness that threatened to paralyze her. Another keening howl broke the quiet night air, this time closer. Finishing her jerky quickly, Merida stepped from her hiding spot and checked the breeze. She was still downwind, but they were finding her somehow.

Grateful she wore breeches, with only a small pang thinking of what her mother would say if she saw her, she wrapped her cloak tighter around her and set off again. The moonlight was just strong enough and the underbrush loose enough to allow her to advance at a trot. After about twenty minutes, she hadn't heard another howl and let herself relax a bit, slowing to a brisk walk.

A sudden foul smell came to her on the breeze. There was something nearby that was definitely deceased. Perhaps this was what the wolves were scenting? If she could get around it, she might be able to lose the beasts.

The stench of death grew stronger as she walked. Slowing, she listened carefully. If there were already wolves here, feeding...breathing unsteadily, she nocked an arrow. There was a small clearing ahead. A rustle of wings could be heard but nothing else. As she stepped out of the trees, she could make out a large, dark shape on the ground. It seemed to be moving, shifting in the moonlight. At her approach, an explosion of black feathers alighted from the mound. Filthy carrion eaters! They were ravens, not vultures, otherwise Merida would have loosed all her arrows at them in disgust. As it was, they fled, cawing, at her approach. Holding the corner of her cloak across her nose and mouth, she crept toward the now-still corpse of whatever they had been feasting on. It was enormous and black, sticky blood and viscera gleaming in the moonlight. For a heart-stopping moment, she thought it might be Toothless. Her stomach heaved but she forced herself closer to it. On closer inspection, the creature was covered in black fur, not scales. Heaving a relieved sigh, she knelt at its massive shaggy head. The eyes had been pecked clean, but it was unmistakably a bear.

It might not have been Toothless, but still her eyes filled with tears. Memories of her mother swirled and eddied, in both her bear form and her human one. Saying a silent prayer to the old ones to guide the bear's soul, she rose and crept away quickly. The wolves might be right behind her.

A blue flash in the woods beyond caught her eye. A wisp?!

Setting off at a run, she dashed after it, heedless suddenly of the noise she was making. The small blue light winked along the path in front of her, leading her deeper into the woods. Hoping there was no woodcarver's hut at the end of this journey, Merida plunged into the darkness after it.

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When Merida emerged panting from the trees, she was standing before an immense loch. It was bigger even than the one near her castle in Dunbroch. The wisp winked away at the water's edge and didn't return. The full moon was reflected perfectly in the rippling water. Feeling the full intensity of her thirst, Merida stooped to fill her canteen and took long, satisfying swallows. The water was clear and cold and absolutely delicious. She splashed her face and neck, rinsing away the grime and sweat of a day's run through the woods. The only warning she had was a small ripple in the water a few yards out. A dark shape emerged from the water with a deafening roar. Merida only saw rows of sharp teeth in a snout like an alligator's and a slimy, scaled hide as she reached back for an arrow. Leaping backward to avoid a swipe from a clawed arm the size of a tree trunk, Merida tripped and fell. Cursing as her arrow streaked uselessly away from its target, she scrambled backward crablike, trying to pull another arrow from her quiver.

The creature tilted back its massive head and roared again, a sound that shook her bones. An answering chorus of howls came from the forest directly behind her. Half a dozen blurred gray shapes launched themselves over her, snarling and snapping. The wolves were attacking the creature! Merida gaped in astonishment as the wolves attached ferociously, clamping jaws onto the beast's massive arms and snapping at its head. One of the wolves leapt for its face, and was caught in its mouth with a squealing yelp. Merida yelled in horror as it bit the wolf in half and let the pieces fall to the water with a sickening splash. The remaining wolves redoubled their attack, driving the creature back into the water, step by step. What appeared to Merida to be the pack leader, though why she couldn't say, was a slender brown wolf. It dove at the creature's midsection, slicing open its belly with claw and fang. With a bellowing roar, the beast swiped at it but retreated quickly until it disappeared beneath the surface of the water. The four surviving wolves limped out of the water, licking their wounds. Merida snapped out of her shock and quickly stood, nocking another arrow as she did.

Even though the wolves were all injured, she doubted she could shoot them all before they took her down. There was definitely no way to outrun them. Taking aim at the pack leader, she let go her breath and prepared to shoot it through the heart. As she entered the peaceful space in her mind from which she always shot the best, the odd sensation of dejá vu overcame her. What was this reminding her of?

The memory of Toothless spiraling down from the sky, bleeding from her arrow, entered her mind unbidden. This felt distinctly, strangely, the same. Was she about to mistake a friend for an enemy again?

But these were wolves! The awful things that killed Angus! Nearly killed her too. Merida tightened her trembling hand on the bowstring. Wolves deserved to be shot, even if they had just saved her life. She would not let them kill her without a fight!

On the verge of releasing the arrow, she shifted her focus from the wolf's heart to its face. With a startled cry, she suddenly recognized those eyes, glinting emerald in the moonlight. Hic. The wolf's eyes were Hic's exactly. How was this possible? Biting back a sob, she warred with herself, emotion and logic battling for supremacy. The wolf sat down calmly and looked her straight in the eye, unblinking, as though awaiting her decision. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't. Though they would no doubt kill her, she couldn't take the chance that she would be hurting a friend.

Knowing she was quite possibly making a fatal mistake, she lowered the bow. Dropping both it and the arrow to the ground, she sank to her knees and waited for the wolf to come at her throat.

The wolf rose and slowly approached. Merida was unable to tear her gaze away from its glowing green eyes. It stood nose to nose with her for a long moment, expression unreadable. It dropped its head slightly, and Merida closed her eyes. Surely, she would feel its teeth on her neck any moment. Instead, a warm, wet tongue dragged its way from her collarbone to her forehead in a slow, slimy swipe.

Making a disgusted face, Merida eyes popped open with a startled "yech!" and she gaped in astonishment. The wolf had dropped to its belly and was sitting back comfortably, relaxing with its tongue lolling out of its mouth. If she didn't know any better, it was laughing at her!

The other wolves gathered around and followed its leader's example. Merida sat back with a dazed thump. She was surrounded by wolves, and they weren't trying to kill her. Dropping her head into her hands, she cried with the force of all the pent up emotion of the day, which was considerable. Sobbing silently, she was shocked to feel a warm weight on her thigh and looked down to see the brown wolf resting its shaggy muzzle against her. It was the most oddly familiar and comforting thing. Hesitantly, she touched her hand to its fur, delighting in its soft thickness. The wolf's green eyes closed drowsily as she scratched behind its ears, and it actually seemed to sigh with satisfaction. Merida laughed. This was utterly daft!

The wolf opened one eye and seemed to be asking her what was so funny. She shrugged at it.

"Well then, my brave rescuer. What now?"

As if it had been waiting for this, the wolf climbed to its feet. Merida stood as well, taken aback to find that the wolf was as tall as her waist. It turned and followed the shoreline at a trot, the rest of the pack following. Merida groaned with tiredness but followed, wondering where her strange new friends were taking her.

Merida followed the wolves for what seemed like hours, until her feet were dragging with exhaustion. They had begun climbing not long after leaving the loch. There was still no sign of dawn. Was this place eternally dark, or had she just lost all sense of time?

The ground turned rockier and the trees sparser. The wolves paused at a large boulder outcropping and her shaggy brown wolf turned up his head and howled. An answering howl came from a hundred yards up the slope. A shaggy yellow wolf bounded down the slope toward them. Merida wasn't sure, but she thought the newcomer was female. Darting straight for the brown wolf, she nearly knocked him over with her greeting. They tussled affectionately for a moment. Merida averted her eyes, annoyed to find herself feeling, ridiculously, like an intruder. The pale wolf fell in with their group and they continued the progression up the mountain until they came to an opening in the rocks. Most of the wolves darted in as they approached, leaving Merida outside with the shaggy brown and the blond she-wolf who, presumably, was his mate. The brown male began to plod further up the rocky mountainside. The female eyed Merida warily, but followed closely on the heels of the pack leader. Merida trudged along behind them, feeling suddenly disconsolate and not wanting to think very hard about the reasons why.

They climbed on and on, until the air became misty around them and the rocks were shrouded in milky fog. The wolves led her to a massive flat boulder. Merida clambered up on it behind them and was puzzled to see they had reached some sort of summit. There appeared to be nowhere else to go. The wolves trotted to the center of the rock and sat down expectantly. Merida saw a faint glimmer of metal in front of the brown wolf's paws.

"What's this?" she whispered, kneeling next to him. There was a golden disk buried in the rock, glowing faintly in the foggy moonlight. Etched in the center was a familiar compass rose. Running her fingers over it, she traced out the name in the center. With a sharp intake of breath, she whispered "Moriah" and gaped as the disk separated into four perfect wedges and opened smoothly downward. Merida could make out nothing in the blackness below.

"Thank you," whispered Merida. The brown wolf turned to Merida and held her gaze with his steady green eyes. She realized that if she had let her fear overcome her, she would have shot him dead and never found the way out of this place. Tears pricking her eyes, she wrapped her arms around the soft furry neck of the wolf and hugged him tight.

The wolf licked her cheek one last time before turning to leave. He paused at the edge of the boulder and gave her a last mournful look before disappearing into the fog, the female at his side.

With a heavy heart, Merida swung her legs into the hole left by the disk and jumped, falling into blackness.


	16. Immutable

Hic stumbled, trying and failing to gain purchase on the slippery surface he suddenly found himself standing on. His metal foot finally dug into the ice with a screech and he righted himself, gaping in astonishment. The stone circle was gone and there was no sign of the others. No Toothless. No Merida or anyone else. Suppressing panic, he took stock of his surroundings.

The swooping ice formations surrounding him glowed blue and green in the sunlight. Gut twisting, he suddenly knew without a doubt where he was. But, it just couldn't be!

A roar from somewhere nearby caught his attention. Dragons! Hoping Toothless was here somewhere, he climbed over the slippery ice boulders to find an elevated spot. Scrabbling with difficulty, he managed to haul himself up to a jumbled outcropping and nearly fell off when he caught a glimpse of what lay in the shallow bowl of icy landscape below.

His head spun as though he'd drunk a cask of Gobber's homemade spirits. This had to be a hallucination. A hundred yards beyond stood an unlikely assemblage: Toothless, the Alpha Bewilderbeast, Drago, and...himself. His younger counterpart was standing next to Toothless, speaking with Drago. He couldn't hear what was being said, but that conversation was so deeply etched into his memory that he knew every word that was being exchanged. What the hell was going on? Had he stepped back in time? Was he about to watch the worst moment of his life replay in front of his eyes? The cruel unfairness of what was about to happen made him writhe with misery.

He watched in helpless fascination as Toothless metamorphosed once more from his playful best friend into the monster who would kill his father. Hic's heart stopped. Stoick! His father was still alive, here and now! An idea began to form, excitement pulsing through him. If this was real, he could save his father. He could prevent that horrible moment from ever happening!

Taking stock of the situation, Hic saw he had only moments to decide what to do. Drago's back was to him. If he moved quickly enough, maybe he could take him by surprise and give the younger Hic a chance to break through the mind control that was even now bending Toothless to Drago's will. He pulled the inferno blade from its scabbard. There was only a tiny amount of Zippleback gas remaining in the hilt. It would have to do. He'd been saving it for years, waiting for the right moment. Hic sprang from the outcropping with a cry and ran hard for Drago, slipping with every step. The desperation was reaching a fever pitch in his blood. He had to stop this from happening! From the corner of his eye, he saw a huge mass of fur and braids making a beeline for the small group. It was Stoick, racing to save his son. It was happening again! Hic thought he might be sick.

His father was moments away from pushing the younger Hic aside. If Hic didn't make it in time, Stoick would once again take Toothless's blast of plasma, saving Hic but killing himself instantly. Tears blurring his eyes, Hic scrambled harder. He would not watch his best friend kill his father again, he would not!

He was just a dozen steps from Drago's back. He tightened his grip on the inferno blade and raised it to strike when suddenly he was sprawling on the ice. Damn that bloody metal leg for clumsiness! Yelling with frustration, he pushed himself up and realized he was nose to nose with a large golden disk buried in the ice. What the bloody hell-?

Wrenching himself upright again, cursing his leg, he launched toward Drago again. The younger Hic was backing away from a menacing Toothless, not yet understanding the danger. As he raised his blade to stab Drago in the back, not caring about the cowardice of striking an enemy from behind, a sudden recognition of the word that had been engraved in the center of that odd golden disk hit him like a gong being struck inside his skull.

His blade hovered in mid-air. The scene seemed to pause, like time had come undone. Hic knew, without knowing just how, that he had a choice, and felt sure that he had never been faced with a more important one. He could strike at Drago and maybe, just maybe, save Stoick. Or he could turn and find the disk and return to his companions. A blur of thoughts cascaded through him, his agony of emotions competing with rationality. The moment hung suspended as if waiting for his decision. Was this real? Was it a test? Could he really let Stoick die in front of him, again? Could he let Toothless kill his own father? It was pain they had lived with and struggled with for years, and he could undo it all! But the quiet pull of the golden disk tugged his attention relentlessly behind him. His thoughts calmed and he heard his father's voice, as clearly as if he stood next to him.

"Ye canna go back, son. A chief must find the courage to endure what canna be changed."

His father's rumbling, gruff tones pierced his heart. Stoick was right, as always. Hic threw himself backward with a strangled cry and crawled, blinded by tears, back to the disk. Behind him, he heard the rush of dragon fire and his own anguished scream as Stoick, brave Chieftain of Berk, was incinerated in the space of a heartbeat. Flinging himself down on the golden circle, he cried out "Moriah" in a voice raw with grief. The disk separated neatly into four quarters, the points of which swung smoothly downward. He collapsed into the opening. The echo of his own screaming stayed with him as he sunk through black oblivion.

0000

The darkness blinked away after an interminable slow fall. Hic was breathing heavily, balanced on hands and knees. The inferno blade was still clutched in his hand, his scraped knuckles burning against the hard-packed gray dirt. With a shaky breath, he pulled himself upright and looked around. Grayness in all directions. He was standing on a narrow road. Dirt, scraggly weeds. No sun in the sky, just a depressing flatness of light and shadow. Had that really happened, just now? Had he really just given up the chance to change his past? The pain of losing Stoick, always there like a pebble buried beneath his heart, flamed anew.

Sheathing the inferno with an angry sigh, he brushed himself off and tried to make sense of this new situation. The road stretched to either side, with no defining features to distinguish them. Left or right, dad? Stoick, after having dispensed so much wise advice earlier, was silent on this point. Turning right, Hic was about to set off when he noticed a dark speck in the sky above the infinite gray plains beyond the road. Heart pounding, he stood waiting as it grew slowly bigger.

It was Toothless! Praying this was real, he was nearly hopping up and down with excitement. He had a rider, too! His heart stopped in his chest when he saw a flicker of red. It was Merida. His knees felt perilously rubbery all of a sudden.

He waved his arms back and forth. "Hey buddy!" he yelled.

The dragon had seen him some time ago and was flying his hardest. As they approached, he could see Merida's grin. Toothless was smiling broadly too, his tongue hanging out and flapping in the wind.

"Hic!" yelled Merida breathlessly as Toothless landed smoothly in front of Hic and immediately knocked him over.

"Oof!" laughed Hic, falling hard on his back with Toothless atop him. The dragon gave him a series of smelly, sloppy licks to the face. Hic looped his arms around the dragon's thick neck, full of joy to see his friend again.

"Toothy, you're smothering him!" laughed Merida and then the dragon was gone and she was in his arms, throwing herself on top of him in a blur of wool and red hair. She was real and warm and she was his world and he never, ever wanted to let her go. He held her tightly, drinking in the clean, woodsy scent of her skin. Relief, mingled with a hundred other feelings, flooded him and he found he couldn't speak. They held each other for a long moment, breathing hard. Merida didn't let go but pushed herself up on her elbows until they were nose to nose, her brilliant red curls falling around them in a curtain of fire that blocked out the grayness around them. Bright blue eyes met his, full of happiness. Hic knew he should push her away but found his arms tightening around her slender waist instead. She was so close he could count the delicate freckles across her delicate nose. The warmth of her body was radiating through his armor plate, her breasts in their delicate wool covering pressing tantalizingly against him.

Hic had never wanted to kiss her so badly, and he'd wanted that for so long now. Desire raced through his blood, the heat of longing and love burning away his grief and pain until all that was left was the desperate need to worship this woman with all his body and soul, to make her his and he hers until they were fused into one. The intensity of his need took his breath away. Merida nibbled her lower lip absently, her thoughts clearly racing in the same direction. Her eyes blazed with something definitely stronger than friendship and a flush of rose stole across her freckled cheeks. Her blushes had always set his heart racing and, not for the first time, he wondered if that beautiful pink tone extended even further down her ivory skin, to her breasts, her stomach...he was keenly aware of her body pressed full length against his own and judging by the way she was shifting atop him, she was fully aware as well. And she was making no move to get up either. Hic slid his hands up her back with agonizing slowness. Merida arched slightly against him, her hips pressing more firmly against his hardening cock. Suppressing a groan, his hands made their way past her shoulder blades and up her slender neck, until his fingers were buried in that glorious hair and his thumbs traced her jaw line. Her skin was so soft. How could it be that soft? Her eyes half-closed with pleasure, she followed the gentle pressure of his hands and lowered herself toward him. He stopped breathing. He had wanted this for so long, and now it was really happening.

Merida's soft lips slowly touched his, and the universe narrowed to just the sensation of their tongues sliding against each other's lips. It was like his blood had turned to liquid honey. It hummed in his ears like singing fire. It was like being intoxicated and the world spun and -

"Ahem..."

"Arthur, mate, it's rude to interrupt a lad in a moment like this."

Killian! Merida had sprung up so quickly, Hic wondered if she had wings. She was straightening her clothes and looking utterly flustered. Hic climbed to his feet and ran a hand raggedly through his own hair, wondering how many other surprises the day had in store. Killian and Arthur were standing in the road, grinning at them both, though Arthur at least looked abashed at having interrupted them.

"Good to see you again, lad," said Killian as he grabbed Hic by the shoulder.

"Um, you too, Killian...uh, why are you sopping wet?"

Killian was dripping water, and looked decidedly bedraggled.

"Oh, long story. I had to make a swim for it and came up in a pond a couple miles back that way. Came across Arthur here on the road."

"Oh. I guess I had it easy, then. I just popped into the road here. I wasn't sure where that disk was going to take me. Uh, where are we, anyway?"

Killian and Arthur had shared a look at the mention of the disk.

"Not a clue, mate. I take it you had a test of your own to get through, then?"

Hic frowned. 'Test' didn't seem to quite cover what he'd just gone through. "Test? I suppose you could call it that. It wasn't much fun, anyway."

Merida was still blushing, but seemed to have regained control of herself. She was so beautiful...

"Any sign of the others?" asked Killian. The hopeful note in his voice broke Hic's heart.

"None," said Merida. "I found Toothless in a woods several miles that way. We've been flying about for hours and the first sign we saw of anyone was Hic just a few minutes ago."

Killian sighed. "Right. I suppose we'd best keep going then. They might be anywhere and this direction is as good as any."

"We'll find them, Killian," said Arthur quietly.

"I'll fly ahead with Toothless for a bit and see what I can find," offered Hic. He climbed into the harness and offered a hand down to Merida.

"We should talk," he whispered when she hesitated. She met his eyes warily but took his hand, alighting smoothly in front of him as though it were her natural place in the world. Hic couldn't help but feel as though it was. Hic noticed Killian's grin before they kicked off, but he didn't care at the moment. He didn't have in mind what the pirate thought he did. He really did need to talk to Merida, in private. And hopefully, since they were flying on the back of a dragon, she would find it difficult to stab him when he told her that what had just happened between them couldn't happen again and that he was an utter bastard for having let it happen in the first place. True, it had been years since he'd seen Astrid, but it would be wrong to be with Merida when he didn't know where things stood at home. What he did know, and what was going to make this so damned difficult, was that he knew now, beyond a doubt, that he was in love with Merida. Hic sighed. What a bloody awful day, all in all.


	17. Unrealities

SM chapter 17

"Here, drink this," murmured Emma, placing a teacup in Elsa's hands.

"Thanks, Emma," Elsa replied quietly, not taking her eyes from the flames dancing in the fireplace.

"Want to talk about it?"

Elsa frowned into the teacup. "What was your...test like, Emma?"

Emma took a deep breath. She understood Elsa's desire not to talk about what she experienced. Emma had a feeling that her own time spent in that rotting desert would haunt her nightmares for the rest of her days.

"We were all there, in the beginning. It seemed like we'd come through the stones together, still holding hands. We were in a weird desert place. Everything felt wrong somehow, like the entire place was diseased," she said, struggling to find words to describe it. "I saw a flash of light in the distance and we figured that must be where we should go, so we headed for it. The first one to disappear was Hic. Gone without a trace. One by one, everyone vanished until it was down to me, Killian, the kid here, and Toothless."

Elsa nursed her tea, silently urging Emma on.

"Killian disappeared next. Toothless flew on into the night with Moriah and me. I tried so hard not to fall asleep, but I must have..." Emma's voice broke. She steeled herself and carried on. "Moriah vanished from my arms as I slept. Eventually, Toothless had no strength left and we crashed. He...died. And I was alone."

Elsa's large blue eyes were full of sympathy. "How did you get out?"

"I finally found the source of the flash of light. It looked like an oasis. I'd been wandering in the desert for what felt like days, and I was out of water. I wouldn't have lasted much longer. It's like the place knew somehow, that I was on the verge of total collapse and right at that moment, it showed me a pool of water in a circle of palm trees. I damn near fell for it."

Emma paused and poked at the logs in the fire angrily.

"It was pure poison. If I hadn't caught myself at the last second...let's just say, I was kind of pissed off when I realized. I summoned the biggest fireball I could manage, which was pretty damn big, and torched the pond. When it was gone, there was a golden disk in the center of the crater. It was a compass rose with Moriah's name on it. It opened and I jumped through - and then I was here."

Emma waited, not wanting to push Elsa too hard. But it was clear that the woman needed to talk about what had happened to her. Elsa glanced over to where Moriah was ensconced in an armchair across the room, a large book across here lap. Emma followed her gaze and smiled. Her little girl was quite the bookworm, it turned out. They hadn't had many aboard the Jolly Roger. Moriah had learned there was a library in this place, and she'd pestered that Vandene creature until the crone had given in and let her read whatever she wanted.

Satisfied that Moriah couldn't hear, Elsa began to speak softly. "My experience was a little different. I'm glad to hear that you saw false versions of all of us in your test as well. It gives me hope that what I saw had no basis in reality, either."

Elsa shivered and accepted another pour of tea.

"When we came through the circle, I arrived in Arendelle. I was in my own bed, in my castle. I could tell from the sounds that everything was back to normal, the way it was five years ago. I ran to the window...it was a beautiful summer day. The market in the village was bustling. I actually cried, it was so wonderful."

"But?"

"But. I ran to the door of my chambers and found that I could not leave. Try as I might, I would lift my hand to the door and my limbs would not obey me. Every time I attempted to open the latch, I would find myself stepping back from the door instead of opening it. I was confused at first, and then I was angry. I held up my hand, intending to blast my way through the damned thing, and my magic would not come. And not only that, a pain like I've never experienced struck me as though I'd been hit by lightning. It felt like my head was being cleaved in two. I screamed and fell into a heap on the floor. It took an hour for the pain to fade. I became slowly aware of a warmth radiating from something around my neck. It had burned hot when I had tried to summon my magic, but I'd barely noticed given how much pain I was in. I went to the mirror and saw that I was collared, like a dog."

Elsa's beautiful mouth twisted and her fingers clenched around the teacup. She continued in a flat voice:

"It was a beautiful gold-worked choker, but it was a collar nonetheless. I tried, just once, to take it off. It took me another hour to recover, after I was finished vomiting. I sat on the bed and waited. Eventually, a servant came for me with a lunch tray. I didn't recognize her, and the livery she wore wasn't mine. She wore a scarlet dress that had a gold-embroidered dragon on the breast, with a three-pointed star beneath it in silver thread. I tried to ask her questions, but she ignored me as though I were a piece of furniture and left me alone again. Hours passed before another servant arrived to fetch me. I followed him through the corridors of a castle I'd grown up in, but no longer recognized. I saw no one I knew, and there was an atmosphere of oppression and fear in the air. No one would meet my gaze. We entered the throne room, and..."

Her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes tight as if we wanted to block something out of her mind's eye. She took a shaky breath.

"And there was Arthur, sitting on my throne."

Emma started in surprise. "Arthur?"

"Oh yes. King Arthur, ruler of my kingdom as well as his, I would soon discover. I started forward and blurted out 'Arthur, what's going on?' I assumed that he had somehow come through the circle with me, and that he had to be as confused as I was," Elsa said ruefully, snorting a joyless laugh. "He raised an eyebrow at me and said, 'She speaks without being spoken to? Sister, is your discipline losing its bite? My wife appears to think she is the master of her own tongue again.' Emma, you could've knocked me over with a feather. To hear the man I l-" Elsa choked at the word, her eyes tight with pain, "-cared about, refer to me as if I were a misbehaving pet...devastated doesn't begin to describe it. Enraged, too. And he saw that, and laughed - laughed! - at me. And so did the woman standing at his side. She was beautiful in a hawkish sort of way. Tall as Arthur but dark as he is fair. She wore a golden diadem in her hair. I would soon learn that she was Morgana Le Fay, and she called herself the Vicereine of Arendelle. 'Arthur', she said, "my discipline can only do so much. You know well that this one requires the carrot as well as the stick' and then they both laughed as though it were some joke between them. Arthur rose and approached me. His eyes were so cold, so cruel, Emma. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My kind, gentle Arthur wasn't there. This man was a stranger to me. He stroked my cheek and then ran his hand down to my collar, and then lower..."

Elsa was blushing scarlet.

"He touched me, intimately. I tried to step away from him, to slap him, but I couldn't move an inch. I couldn't even open my mouth to speak. Strangest of all, I felt myself responding to his touch," Elsa's voice had dropped to a whisper, and she touched shaking fingers to her throat. "It was as if the collar were designed to make me his plaything, his slave. Morgana intervened, or god knows what he would have done to me, right there on the floor of the throne room. 'Later, Arthur,' she laughed. 'You can teach your wife to obey you in private tonight. Bring in the prisoners!'

Guards trooped into the throne room, all in scarlet livery. They were surrounding a group of people, one of whom I recognized. My sister, Anna. We met each other's eyes, and I couldn't believe how she was looking at me. She loathed me, Emma. Anger and hate were practically radiating off her. It broke my heart like nothing else could've done."

Emma took Elsa's hand, which was cold as ice, and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm starting to think I got off easy, Elsa," whispered Emma. She never would've thought that what she went through in the desert could seem easy, but it paled in the light of Elsa's trial. "I'm so sorry."

Elsa managed a weak smile. "If you'd asked me to think up the worst nightmare I could possibly imagine for myself, I don't think I could've come up with anything half as ugly prior to this...test."

"You don't have to go on, Elsa, if you don't want to," said Emma, pouring her some more tea.

"No, it's helping, I think. To talk about it," she said, sipping her tea. Her voice was stronger when she continued. "Morgana addressed the prisoners:

'Rebels, you are hereby sentenced to death. The punishment will be carried out immediately.'

I had no idea what was going on. Rebels? Anna spoke out loudly, her voice ringing like a bell. 'We die gladly for the freedom of Arendelle!'

Morgana laughed, Arthur joining her. She descended the dais and stood beside me. The collar grew warm around my neck. I knew then that whatever magic held me, this woman was at the rotten heart of it. She touched my arm, and I felt my mind and body leap to obey her. She had not spoken or directed me in any way, but I knew what was expected of me. I watched in horror as my hand rose. I couldn't fight it, Emma. Six people. My subjects, and my sister, the person dearest to me in the world. I froze them solid in the space of a breath and watched them shatter into a million icy pieces onto the throne room floor. The last glimpse I had of Anna's beautiful face, she was holding her head high and giving me a look full of disgust. And maybe pity. I wept silently, which was the only thing I could do. I had been turned into a weapon, and I was in the hands of an enemy.

I don't know how long I stood there, paralyzed by shock. Suddenly I heard a child's laughter and turned to see a small boy, perhaps three years old, being lifted into Arthur's arms. His hair was Arthur's exact shade of coppery gold, but he looked so like my father in his features that I knew beyond a doubt that I was looking at my son, and Arthur's."

"Holy shit," breathed Emma.

"I fainted dead away. When I came to, the boy was sitting beside me and patting my face with his chubby little hands. 'Mommy, wake up!' he was demanding. My heart burst with love and terror unlike anything I'd ever known. I sat up and wrapped my arms around him and hugged him until he started to cry.

'You've done well today, Elsa. We'll let your earlier lapse of manners slide for the moment. Nurse, take them both to the garden for a few hours' and with that, Arthur dismissed me without a backward glance.

I was beyond relieved to find that the nurse was Anhild, who had been my own nurse as a child. She was looking at me with kindness and love, and I clutched her wizened old hand as though I were still a frightened girl. Which I suppose I was. 'Come, child. Andras, take your mother's hand' she said, and we walked to the garden in silence.

We sat beneath my favorite acacia tree and I marveled at my child. He was so beautiful, so perfect. I held him in my arms. I asked Anhild to tell me how this had all come to pass, claiming that my memory was being stripped from me. She humored me, and told me of how Arthur and his court from Camelot had come to Arendelle on a diplomatic visit four years ago, and how smitten we had been with each other from the start. He had seemed kind and gentle and the people regarded him favorably. All reports from his kingdom affirmed that he was a good and beloved ruler. When our engagement was announced, there was great celebration throughout the land. Arthur sent for his dear friend and councilor, Merlin, to attend him at the ceremony. But Merlin did not come, and instead we received word of his death. The bearer of this news was a woman claiming to be Arthur's sister, Morgana. The wedding had proceeded smoothly, and Arthur became Prince Consort of Arendelle. No one knew exactly when things began to change for the worse, but it was apparent that sometime after the arrival of Morgana, the Arthur we thought we knew was gone, replaced by a wicked tyrant. The collar had appeared on my neck within a fortnight of the wedding, and by the time Andras was born nine months later, the kingdom had been changed irrevocably. I renounced my throne, ceding rule of Arendelle to my husband, now King Arthur, and his sister was named Vicereine. She was his equal in power, and more feared than he, once her magic became known. Her reputation for cruelty was well-deserved. My subjects had wondered why I had allowed all of this to happen. Surely, given my own powers, I should've been able to defend myself and my people if I so chose. It seemed to the population that I had been corrupted, and was equally to blame with Arthur and Morgana, if not more so, for the dark turn our kingdom had taken. Famine, pestilence, harsh rule...my people were oppressed and miserable, and they blamed me for it all. I could bear to hear no more, but Anhild continued in excruciating detail. It was well known that Arthur bedded me still, though no more children had come of it. Andras was wielded against me as a sure inducement to follow the will of my captors, though I knew that with the collar I could make no true rebellion against them in any case. I was a prisoner in my own castle, and a slave to my husband and his brutal sister. The one bright spot in this pool of misery was the beautiful little boy snuggled in my lap. As I looked at him, I knew I would do anything to protect him. He was an innocent child surrounded by poisonous vipers and I vowed to never let any harm come to this sweet boy. As I held him, I felt myself letting go of my belief that maybe this wasn't really happening. I knew that you and the rest of our group existed, but I felt the reality of you slipping away from me. I noticed a gleam of gold flickering in the corner of my eye. I hadn't seen it earlier, but there was a golden disk buried in the grass a few feet away. It seemed to be fading away as I looked at it. I gazed down at the perfect little boy in my arms and knew that I was at a crossroads. The disk could take me away, but I would never see this child again. I wouldn't be able to protect him from his father. How could I leave him? The disk winked out of existence."

Emma's mouth hung open. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and cleared her throat. Having to leave Moriah behind...she couldn't even imagine it.

"Obviously, you changed your mind. What decided you?"

"I could feel that collar pressing against my skin, and I realized that even if I stayed, I couldn't protect him. That they could collar him someday, and there would be nothing I could do to stop it. I acknowledged my helplessness. I kissed his forehead and handed him to Anhild. As I knelt down in the grass, my arms had never felt more empty. The disk reappeared. I saw Morgana entering the garden just as it opened. Pain erupted from the collar as I swung my legs into the void. She was screaming in fury as I fell through into the blackness. My magic returned to me as if a tap had opened, ice flowing around me in a torrent as I drifted through the darkness. The next thing I knew, I was flying through the air and landing here, in the courtyard."

"The journey is always hardest for those with the strongest magic, especially those with the ancient blood. But they are also the ones most likely to survive the trial."

Emma and Elsa both jumped. Emma leveled her best glare at Vandene, who had apparently been listening for some time. To her disappointment, the woman didn't wither under her scowl.

"You know, it's rude to eavesdrop," she muttered.

Vandene ignored her with a haughty sniff. "A daughter of Nilfheim would of course have an especially arduous test."

"You said that earlier. What is this Nilfheim?"

The old crone gave Emma a disdainful look. "Humans," she muttered. "So ignorant."

She maneuvered her tall, bony frame into one of the other armchairs and fixed her owl-like gaze on Elsa.

"You are descended of the ancient bloodlines, though I suspect you are primarily human. Your powers are tremendous for a human, but you lack the strength of a pure dottír of the realm of Nilfheim."

Elsa sighed tiredly and didn't respond.

"Another time, Vandene. She's exhausted," said Emma, wrapping a protective arm around Elsa's shoulders.

"It's alright, Emma," said Elsa. "Tell me, Vandene, is the trial...real?"

Vandene studied her thoughtfully, and seemed to choose her words carefully. Emma leaned forward, curious to hear the answer.

"We do not know for certain. Some have speculated that it is all false, simply images plucked from the sojourner's mind and made corporeal. It is quite real in the physical sense, of course. A wound received in the trial is as real as one taken here. And as the trials are always drawn from the traveler's deepest wells of emotion, it would make sense that it would be hallucination of sorts. But often the descriptions of those that return contain kernels of information from our reality which they could not have known. This necklace you describe, for instance, could well be a real object. It is my belief, after centuries speaking with those who have made it through the journey, that the trials contain alternate realities. They are sometimes set in a present that looks much like our own, sometimes in a future that might have been, sometimes in the past, for those that desire most to change the difficult parts of their own history. Regardless, all scenarios test the seeker's strength of will in the most ruthless fashion. Most do not make the difficult choice, and they remain trapped in their trial, possibly for eternity, though I cannot say for certain."

The old woman's voice was calm. She had the dry tone of a professor. She may as well have been discussing weather patterns or varieties of tree frogs.

They were silent a moment, absorbing this information. "So," said Elsa, slowly, "what I experienced was...plausible? It could have happened, or might still?"

"All I can tell you is that the test exploits the seeker's darkest fears. As to the potential feasibility of the scenario, you would know better than I."

Elsa paled even further, though Emma wouldn't have supposed it possible. She looked like she might throw up, faint, or both.

"Elsa, is this the necklace?"

Moriah was standing next to Elsa's chair, her little face grave in the firelight. Damn it, had she overheard their conversation? This was too much darkness for a little girl to hear. She was balancing a large leather-bound book in her hands, its pages open to an intricate engraved illustration of a filigreed golden collar. Elsa gasped with shock and recoiled from the page.

"It's real?" she gasped, her hands going protectively to her throat.

"Moriah, where did you find this?" asked Emma, taking the book from her.

"I was looking through the books and I saw this. It says it's an am-u-let made to control an ice wielder," she sounded out, tracing the script on the page with her finger.

"Huh? This is all gibberish, honey," said Emma. The page was covered in writing, but not in any alphabet she recognized. The spidery lettering was indecipherable.

"Can you read that, Moriah?" asked Vandene, steepling her gnarled fingers against her lips. At the little girl's assent, she nodded as though the answers to a puzzle were clicking into place.

"But this is just gobbledygook, Moriah," said Emma, exasperated. "Don't be silly."

"No, it's elvish. Dvargarish, to be precise," murmured Vandene. "Most interesting."

Emma shivered. This was not good.

"What does it say, child?" asked the owlish gatekeeper.

"That the necklace was forged in Musp-musp-" the little girl floundered.

"Muspellheimr," suggested Vandene.

"Yeah, Muspellheimr, by one of its sons, in order to enslave a daughter of Nilfheimr," said Moriah. "He wanted to marry her and she said no, so he made the necklace."

"Okay, that's enough of that," said Emma, snapping the book shut and shoving it at Vandene with a grimace. "Stop filling her head with all this heimer nonsense."

Vandene took the book but fixed Emma with a flat stare. "Your daughter is no ordinary human child, Emma Swan. She will fulfill her destiny whether you believe it or not."

Emma's mouth flattened into a grim line as she rose and picked up her little girl. "Stay away from her, Vandene. I'm warning you."

"Mommy-"

"Shush, let's go out in the courtyard and look for your dad."

"Okay."

They left Elsa staring morosely into the flames. Her expression broke Emma's heart. Whatever Killian and the others were going through, she hoped it was nothing like Elsa's trial. Looking at her daughter, she hoped even more fervently that Moriah's test had been nothing like it either. She was still refusing to talk about it. What she wouldn't give for some advice from Dr. Hopper right now! She sighed, wanting to be in Killian's arms in the worst way. Come on, Jones. Get here, already.


	18. Flee

"It's a castle, all right. Flew over it a time or two, but no people."

Hic dismounted Toothless, stretching after hours in the saddle. Their small group was paused in the road, taking a brief rest. After miles of walking through this endless gray landscape, a dark smudge had appeared on the horizon. Killian had asked Hic to investigate with Toothless.

"No people," whispered Killian on hearing his report. His heart sunk. He'd allowed himself to hope that Emma and Moriah were here.

"They're probably inside, Killian," said Merida. "Likely having a cuppa tea and waiting for us."

"I hope you're right, lass," he muttered as he pulled his boots back on. "Best we go find out, one way or the other."

Climbing to his feet, he hoped they would at least find a fireplace so he could dry out. The air in this place didn't seem to move at all and his clothing was still uncomfortably damp. He pulled Hic aside before the lad could climb back on Toothless.

"I think you should stay with us, Hic. We don't know what we'll find up ahead."

Hic's gaze flicked to Merida. He flinched slightly and returned his attention to Killian. "Are you expecting a fight?"

Killian grinned. "I'm always expecting a fight, lad."

"We've got your backs then," said Arthur behind them. He exchanged a sober nod with Killian, gripping Excalibur's hilt with white knuckles.

"Aye, that you do. Merida," he called over to the redhead, "how's your aim today, lass?"

Merida quirked an eyebrow at him, amused and slightly offended. She didn't deign to reply, but instead knelt to pick up a small rock the size of a chicken egg from the path. Turning, she hurled it high and far. Her arm whipped back at the end of the toss to draw an arrow from the quiver strapped to her back and the bow flew to her fingertips like it belonged nowhere else. The arrow was loosed and streaked after the pebble, striking it halfway through its fall with a sharp thwack. Both arrow and rock fell to the plain with a small shower of sparks. Hic and Arthur applauded as Merida slowly turned to the group and bowed to them with a smug flourish.

"So it's about middling, then, eh?" joked Killian, suppressing a mischievous smile at her frown.

"Uh, Merida..."

Hic staring uncertainly at the gray plains where Merida's arrow had landed. Blue-white flames were radiating across the ground where the arrow had struck a spark against the rock, though what the flames were actually burning was a mystery. There were dry grasses dotting the place here and there, but the expanses were mostly rock and dirt. Oddly, the flames remained low and seemed to bubble rapidly across the ground, never rising more than a few inches, but seeping at astonishing speed in all directions.

The group exchanged quick, uncertain glances. If there was one thing he'd learned from Emma Swan, it was to trust his gut.

"Run!" he yelled. He caught a glimpse of Hic and Merida climbing aboard Toothless, the dragon hissing at the onward rush of flames as he kicked off. Arthur caught up to Killian, wild-eyed. They ran on wordlessly, the flames rushing just steps behind them. Panting with exertion, Killian kept his eyes on the horizon, trying not to think of how impossibly far off in the distance the castle was. He could see the sweat pouring off Arthur from the corner of his eye. How long could they keep up this pace? It had to be miles yet to the castle! Gritting his teeth, he glanced behind them and regretted it immediately. All the land behind them was blanketed in blue-white flame, and it was building in intensity. Seemingly feeding on itself, the flames were rising higher and higher each second. The edge of the pool of fire was only a handful of steps behind them. Killian could feel a susurration of movement at his back, but, strangely, no heat.

They ran on for a mile, then another, and then exhaustion was claiming his speed. Arthur grabbed his arm and pulled him onward, but the flames were growing in strength behind them as their own faded.

"Come on!" gasped Arthur, as they struggled forward, spurred on only by adrenaline and certainty that to stop would mean death.

They had lost sight of the dragon some time ago. Killian hoped they'd made it to the safety of the castle, and hoped even more fervently that he would as well. Please, he thought desperately, please let my family be there, safe.

His foot caught on a rock and he went down hard, smacking his chin into the dirt. He scrambled to his feet, which were clumsy with exhaustion. Arthur had broken stride and helped him to stand. Killian could see the wall of flames behind them reflected in the man's eyes, wide with fear. They launched themselves forward again, with new speed. Somewhere beneath the panic, he discovered a hidden reserve of strength, like the cask of rum still concealed beneath the floorboards of his ship, labeled 'EMERGENCY'. Well, this certainly qualified. They sped on, the flames now roaring in their ears.

A black dot appeared in the sky, rapidly growing larger as it approached. Toothless! He swooped toward them, Hic alone in the saddle. The dragon swung around them in a low dive, braking in mid-air just above their heads in a hair-raising maneuver. Without pausing to think, Killian threaded his arm through the strap of Hic's harness and held on for dear life. He saw Arthur do the same, and then they were flying. His boots barely cleared the flames, now the height of an oak tree. He watched in horror as his beloved coat lost a foot of length at one corner where it draped through the flames. It didn't burn, precisely. The leather was simply gone, leaving no singing or smoking. It had disappeared as cleanly as if it had been sheared off with scissors. Killian shuddered and closed his eyes, concentrating on keeping his arm tightly through the harness. The ground was suddenly a long way off.

Very soon after, but not soon enough for Killian, they were slowing and losing altitude. Opening one eye cautiously, he could make out the rapid approach of a stone courtyard below. Toothless came sharply to a halt with a snap of his wings, and hovered a short distance from the cobblestones. Killian wiggled his numb arm from the leather straps and fell the few remaining feet to the ground, rolling to land flat on his back. Nothing short of his naked wife standing before him with a decanter full of rum would have convinced him to get up, at this point. And even that enticing vision might have to wait for him to recover. His breathing was still coming in great whooshing gulps. He'd not run that hard in years...or ever, really.

"Killian!" shouted a familiar voice. Emma! Before he could struggle to sit up, he was crushed beneath his wife's embrace and returning her kisses with as much strength as he could muster. Which it turned out wasn't much. He let his arms fall back to the stone pavement with a weary sigh. "Are you all right? Talk to me?"

"Is...Moriah...okay?" he panted, searching her eyes for an answer.

"Yeah, she's fine. Sweetie?"

Then his little girl had her face buried in his neck and her little arms around his shoulders, Emma hugging them both. "Oh, thank god, thank god," he murmured, over and over. The relief turned his limbs to water. He opened his eyes again to see Emma looking him over, checking for injuries.

"I'm fine, love. Just a bit winded."

"You must've run the better part of five miles," said Hic. He was helping Arthur to sit up. "I'm sorry I couldn't get back to you sooner, but I was worried that Toothless wouldn't have enough maneuverability with the weight of two riders so I brought Merida all the way here before turning back."

"Just what do you mean by that, Hiccup Haddock?" snapped Merida, sounding mortified at the suggestion that she weighed too much.

"N-nothing! I just didn't want to risk overloading Toothless-"

Hic broke off as Merida shot him a thousand-yard stare and stalked away, bristling like a cat.

"I just wanted to make sure you were safe," Killian heard Hic whisper at her retreating figure. The poor lad was really head over heels. Shaking his head with sympathy, Killian struggled to his feet. The boy had his work cut out for him. He suspected she'd have her hackles up for some time, after starting a fire that nearly killed them all. Nothing like a bit of guilt to make a lass like that lash out with temper.

Emma looped her arm around his waist and helped take some of his weight. He nuzzled her hair and breathed in that wonderful Emma smell. Gratitude for his family made his eyes swim.

"Daddy, what happened to your coat?"

"Oh, that," he said darkly, surveying the damage to his favorite article of clothing. "There was a bit of a fire out there, love. But we're all fine. Just a bit singed."

"No more than you deserve, foolish humans. A fire has not swept the Erasmus plains in millennia, as none have been stupid enough to bring an open flame anywhere near them. Astonishing that you lived to tell the tale."

Killian turned in astonishment and blinked at the strange woman standing in their midst. A tall, thin crone with overlarge, inhuman yellow eyes, surveyed them with haughty disdain.

"Vandene, we need food, water, and a place to rest," snapped Emma, clearly not on friendly terms with this creature. Killian was inclined to agree with his wife. Wait, Vandene! Moriah had mentioned that name during his trial. So it had been real, seeing her there on the dock? Head spinning, he opened his mouth to ask Moriah about it but snapped it shut on seeing her small head shake. His little girl was begging him silently to keep his mouth shut. He smiled at her and instead instead bending down and planting a kiss on her forehead. She grinned at him and took his hand, pulling them toward the castle entrance.

The weary band of travelers trudged into the dark corridor leading to the castle proper, following Vandene to a cozy sitting room. Merida was already there, crunching hungrily on an apple. An array of food and decanters of wine and water stood waiting for them on a table in front of the fireplace. Settling into a chair with a sigh, Killian closed his eyes tiredly. A cold goblet was pressed into his hand, and without opening his eyes, he drew his wife's hand with the goblet to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her knuckles.

"Hungry? I'll make up a plate for you."

He felt the smile in her voice as he gulped down the cold water and let it soothe his parched throat. "Thanks, love. I could do with a bit of food."

He hoped he could stay awake for it.

"Emma, where's Elsa?" asked Arthur anxiously. Killian realized he hadn't seen any sign of the ice queen since their arrival.

"She's here, Arthur," replied Emma, uncertainly. Killian could tell she was hiding something. "She had a really tough trial. She's upstairs resting."

"Oh," sighed Arthur. "Thank god she's all right."

Emma gave Killian a look that said otherwise. "What is it, love?" he whispered when she bent to give him a plate.

Emma cast a look at Arthur, who was leaning back in an armchair with his eyes closed. She shook her head at Killian, clearly not wanting to discuss it in front of Arthur for some reason.

"I don't know what yours was like, but mine was bad. But once I heard Elsa's story...let's just say it wasn't pretty," she murmured.

"But she's all right?" asked Arthur, obviously listening in.

Emma sighed, raising her voice normally. "She will be. She's tough."

"Maybe I should go to her..." said Arthur, rising from his chair.

"No!" said Emma loudly, starting toward him as if to block his way.

Arthur gaped at her. "Whyever not?"

Emma took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully.

"Because, in her trial...you were part of it."

"I was...part of it? She was in mine as well, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see her," said Arthur slowly, looking poleaxed.

"Let's all sit down and eat, and I'll try to explain what I can, okay?"

They took their seats and all was quiet for a moment except for the sounds of wine being poured and forks on plates.

"So this place, it's the end of a journey. Or at least I think it is. Vandene is very thin on details," said Emma, mouth twisted with dislike. "When we came through the stones, each of us experienced a trial. Evidently almost no one survives. For some of us, it was a test in the present, with no way to know that the people we were with weren't real. For others, it is a trip to the past. How tempting would it be to change the most painful things we've ever experienced?"

Hic shifted uncomfortably in his seat at this, and buried his face in his lunch.

"For Elsa, she saw an alternate present, or maybe a possible future, I don't know. But you were there, Arthur, and you were...not yourself."

"I was...cruel...to her in some way?" he said, sounding strangled.

"More like, evil," said Emma gently. "She knows it's not real, that it didn't happen. But she also isn't sure that it won't. You know how real your own trial felt, right?"

Arthur nodded reluctantly.

"Well, you'll need to give her some time. I won't tell you the details. It's her story. But if I were you, I'd let her come to you when she's ready."

Arthur said nothing. As if hearing this was the final blow, he bent forward until his elbows were on his knees and buried his head in his hands.

"What a fucking nightmare," he murmured.

It was a sign of how badly Emma felt for him that there was no chastening about language around her kid. She perched on the side of his chair and put her arm around him.

"Just be patient, Arthur. It'll be okay," she said softly.

The wooden door to the study creaked open and Vandene limped in stiffly, leaning on her cane.

"What now?" grumbled Emma.

Vandene blinked at them for several moments, her mouth compressed in a tight line. She sniffed and adjusted her black shawl around her.

"I can no longer ignore the signs. It's clear now that events long ago foretold have come to pass. The end of an age is at hand. Come, I must show you something."

"Can't it wait, Vandene? They're exhausted."

Rapping her cane sharply on the stone floor, Vandene glared at Emma.

"Girl, the fate of the nine worlds turns on the group of humans I see before me. If you wish to sit out the battle in front of a cozy fire, be my guest. But do not be shocked when Soria Moria crumbles to the ground around you."

The old woman turned on her heel and shuffled stiff-backed from the room.

"She's on my last nerve," muttered Emma, as she rose reluctantly.

"Well, come on guys. I guess we're about to get some answers, at least."

"I'll get Elsa," chirped Moriah, bounding ahead of them after Vandene.

Killian climbed wearily back to his feet, his legs trembling ominously. He grabbed for Emma, as much for support as for the joy of touching her. She seemed to know what he was about and gave him a smirk, but put his arm over her shoulder and helped him toward the door.

"Wait, Emma," he said, pulling her to a stop as the others filed out of the room.

"What is it?" she sounded concerned.

"Nothing...it's just...I love you, Swan."

Her face relaxed and she tilted her lips up to receive a kiss, eyes twinkling.

"Mmmm. Right back at you, Hook. Took you long enough to get here."

"Interesting story, that..."

They turned to follow the group down the corridor, Killian describing his trial in Storybrooke for Emma. He knew it would hurt her to hear, so he tried to keep it lighthearted. He deliberately omitted the bit about making love to the fictitious Emma in his trial. Emma's eyes went round when he described sitting on the dock and receiving a visit from Moriah.

"Aye, if she hadn't shown up and convinced me to trust my instincts, I'd still be there."

Emma let go a shaky breath. "But it was just an illusion, right? I mean, there's no way she was really in your trial. She got here even before I did."

"Emma, just before she vanished, she said 'Vandene is calling, gotta go'...I think she was really there, helping me. She said it was against the rules. I got the impression earlier she didn't want me to mention it in front of the old woman."

Emma shivered. "We've known from the beginning that there's something special about her. But this...it just seems so crazy! How does she know about any of this stuff?"

"I know, love. But I'm pretty sure she saved my life, however she managed it."

They walked in silence for a moment.

"So is that why you're all damp then? Swimming for the disk?" smiled Emma, clearly trying to change the subject.

"Oh, aye. That and running a few leagues at top speed, sweating the entire way."

Emma laughed, the sound warming his blood as it always did.

"Well, you're in luck. Our room has a bathtub."

Killian groaned at the thought of settling into a hot bath. Preferably with his wife. But apparently they had to hear what this Vandene woman had to say first. He hoped it was brief.

Emma gasped when they entered an enormous domed chamber, lined entirely with books. It was dimly lit by torches. What apparently startled her was the grapefruit sized white orb glowing in the center of the room. It was positioned on a simple marble pedestal.

"What's happened to it?" she asked, staring transfixed. "Why is it glowing?"

"You know what it is?" he asked.

"No, not really. I've been in the library with Moriah before. I'd seen there was something like a glow inside it, but tiny, faint."

It wasn't faint now. The orb was so bright that Killian couldn't look directly into it. A movement behind them caught his attention. Moriah was there, leading a wan Elsa into the chamber. The ice queen gave Emma and Killian a small smile. When her gaze swept to Arthur, she flinched and went rigid. Killian swore she stopped breathing. Arthur saw it too. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face, primarily sadness. He raised a hand toward her. She started and averted her gaze, stepping into the shadows at the side of the room. Arthur swallowed hard and let his hand drop, turning away from Elsa with obvious difficulty.

"Now that you are all here, I shall discharge my final duty as gatekeeper of this place," intoned Vandene, dryly. The white light of the orb threw her face into sharp relief.

"This place is a portal. An in-between space. A bridge. It was sealed long ago after a war in which the beings of the various worlds nearly annihilated one another. After letting oceans of bloody, a treaty was reached that severed the connections between the nine, allowing them to heal, and ultimately forget the others existed. The portals still exist, but they are closed. Until now," she said, pointing at the orb.

"You opened it?"

"I?" said the creature, incredulous. "No, not I. You. Or more specifically, all of you, together. I believe that had even one of you failed the test, the orb would have remain dormant. Possibly forever. Or at least until the destruction of the worlds," she mused, frowning like an academic pondering a puzzle.

"But none failed, despite the fact that all of you are human. Or mostly human, in any case. The blood of Nilfheim, at least, is present. I suspect possibly other bloods as well, to explain certain...abilities...which you and your daughter possess, Emma."

"Why us? Why now?"

Vandene frowned. "I do not know. There have been...tremors...of a sort...emanating from the lands beyond the portal. I know little of what lays beyond these walls, but for me to have sensed it at this remove...it may be war between worlds again. Though how, I cannot say."

"But what are we supposed to do?"

"The portal has opened for you. The reasons are beyond me, beyond anyone still living. It is up to you to cross through it to what lays beyond. It is possible that you were removed from your own realms to ease the path to war, if I am right that that is happening. Should you choose to return, you may not recognize the homes you left, if they even still exist. You may be emerging into violence and chaos."

They were all silent, each lost in nightmares of their homes engulfed by war and chaos. But surely Storybrooke would be all right? He squeezed Emma's hand reassuringly.

"If our kingdoms need us, we must go," said Arthur, heat in his voice. He looked at each of them in turn, avoiding Elsa, as if challenging them to disagree. They all nodded assent. No one wanted to stay here, that was for bloody sure.

"One more thing," added Vandene as she turned to leave. "The portals were not only closed, they were protected. I do not know how, exactly, but there are defenses that were placed inside them to thwart travelers. Be prepared."

The group gathered around the orb.

"I say we rest a few hours before leaving. You two are on your last legs," said Emma, looking pointedly at Killian and Arthur. Killian nodded wearily, thinking again of that hot bath waiting upstairs. Arthur put on a stubborn expression.

"We might not have time, Killian. Every hour we wait is an hour our people are suffering."

"Arthur, mate, I understand. But we can't fight our way through the portal after the day we've had. You won't be good to anyone exhausted. We'll rest a few hours, and then we'll go. Agreed?"

"Morgana could be murdering my entire kingdom right now, and you want me to sleep?" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair raggedly.

Elsa gasped. She was staring at Arthur as if he'd just grown another head.

"Morgana..." she whispered, her fingers absently tracing her collarbone.

"How do you know that name?" asked Arthur, shocked.

Elsa's spine stiffened angrily. "She is your sister, is she not? What would you have to fear from her?" she snapped, whirling to leave.

"How did you know she's my sister? Half-sister actually, and a rotten- wait, Elsa, talk to me!" shouted Arthur at the fast disappearing figure of the ice queen.

"Arthur, enough! She's been through a lot and she'll talk to you when she's good and ready. Just leave her be!" said Emma, stomping after Elsa with a warning glare at Arthur not to follow.

Killian shrugged at Arthur, who was by turns looking furious and bewildered.

"I suggest you do as Emma says, mate. Let's see if we can scare up something a bit stronger than wine, eh?"


End file.
